


A New Project

by Saul Adams (sauladams)



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Abduction, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Drug Addiction, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Family, Feelings, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Science Fiction, Sex Education, Sexual Slavery, Tit Torture, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sauladams/pseuds/Saul%20Adams
Summary: In the near future, a rich, depraved inventor kidnaps a woman and her two daughters. As the hapless mother is subjected to all manner of depredations, she must balance the rage she feels at her imprisonment with her desperate desire to prevent her abductor from interfering with her children. Can she weather the gruesome mistreatment while keeping her children safe and still preserve her own sanity? Can she withstand the terrible psychological strain of devoting herself wholly to the sexual service of a man she despises without losing sight of who she is and who she loves? And with their mother so dreadfully occupied, what will befall the two growing sisters in her absence?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. "Potential"

**Author's Note:**

> #### DISCLAIMER
> 
> This is piece of adult erotic fiction that should only be read by persons of age in their respective jurisdictions. If you are not of age in your jurisdiction, stop reading now. This work contains significant elements of non-consensual eroticism, immoral sexual exploitation, and violence, and includes underage characters. Readers who take offense or would be triggered by such content are advised to avoid it. Everything depicted in this work takes place in a fictional future world completely unlike our own. And very rightfully so. The author in no way condones and, indeed, explicitly condemns the behavior and mentalities exhibited in this work. If any readers have any inclination to perform any of the actions depicted in this piece, the author urges them, for the benefit of their fellow human beings, to seek competent mental health assistance. Minors must have the utmost protection from predatory sexual advances or influence. Authors create fantasies to explore the darkest and most terrible aspects of human potential, bringing them from the shadows of the mind and thus exorcizing them from reality. All persons deserve absolute bodily autonomy and personal freedom grounded in mutual respect and the principle of inalienable consent. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events depicted in this work are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel Sato enjoys a quiet working evening in pleasant company. Naz Hamdi does what she does best. Daphne Fisher begins to discover just how cruel the world can be.

##### Daniel - Naz - Daphne

* * *

Diffuse blue light illuminated Daniel Sato's face as he hunted. He sat at a long glass desk in his plush home office space, unadorned except for a pair of large translucent displays. Visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows that enclosed most of his home was the pleasant outline of wildland visible by the light of a waning gibbous moon, crawling above the far horizon. This was the kind of immaculate seclusion afforded only to very few of Earth's elite. His villa was surrounded by seven thousand acres of pristinely forested hill country and it provided a breathtaking view of the snow-capped Alps. His estate was nestled in a quiet European neo-microstate carved out of southern Bavaria by a mega-corporation for the private retreats of the uber-wealthy. 

Daniel gazed lazily at the procession of images which scrolled across the large translucent displays atop his desk. It was an expansive list culled from the visa applications and travel approvals of dozens of nations around the globe. Most of the world's governments had long since outsourced their complex civil management solutions to corporations who, in turn, provided anonymous and clandestine access to those who could pay for the privilege. Buried somewhere deep in the tens of thousands of pages of legalese, these firms stipulated the right for such access to parties of their choosing. Purely for "analytics research", of course.

Daniel was using that access to pursue his new passion. Though practically geriatric by the standards of most of the world, he was still hale and vigorous by virtue of extravagantly expensive anti-senescence treatments. But his tastes and libido had narrowed over the long years and his desires were now peculiar — eccentric, even. The crude moralizing that held sway amongst the small peoples of the world would probably condemn it as twisted. He'd spent enough time seeking various outlets of entertainment and amusement and his ambition had now converged on a most tempting and exclusive thrill: pursuing and remaking one of those lesser humans for his own gratification. The veiled, whispered rumors that inevitably circulated through high society implied that this pastime wasn't actually that rare amongst the upper crust. Lifetimes spent building ludicrous fortunes atop the teeming masses seemed to almost invite the practice of plucking a few choice playthings from the throng of inferior beings beneath. Apparently Daniel was late to this particular party. Regardless, he intended to make his debut with grandeur.

A pleasant, oscillating hum faded into Daniel's perception. The calming sound denoted the presence of Verity, his faithful personal assistant.

"One of your groundcars is returning to the estate bearing the evening's entertainment, sir." Verity's voice was androgynous and pleasing to the ear. Their sonorous timbre was accented with polished harmonics and crafted undertones. Verity's constant quiet croon was a courtesy; as a purely ephemeral being, they didn't wish to inadvertently spy on Daniel and would always use the sound to inform him when they were utilizing the extensive array of projectors and sensors scattered throughout the house in his vicinity.

Daniel felt a pang of fatherly pride whenever he interacted with the sophisticated digital entity. Verity was a triumph. Their creation was the crowning achievement of a lifetime of seminal work in the field of virtual intelligence. VIs were a revolutionary technology that had proven to be a safe stopgap on humanity's long and treacherous journey to true artificial intelligence. Daniel's inventions had gifted humanity with countless willing servants possessed of near-human creativity and capability. Professions that were once the sole domain of expensive human employment now had cost-effective digital laborers. Daniel — in a fashion reserved only to the giants of history — had well and truly changed the world. Whole economies had been radically remade in a matter of months. Industries had risen and fallen and markets had trembled in revolution. Through careful speculation and leverage Daniel had amassed a positively monstrous fortune.

Verity was the product of true savantism. After having spent decades of laying the extensive and exhausting groundwork for the entire field, Daniel had finally birthed Verity in a storm of furious genius. Though all VIs were — to one degree or another — careful works more of art than engineering, Verity had emerged nearly fully formed, like a god of the Classical era, from a flurry of visionary intuition. VIs had clear limits. That was, after all, what made them such an attractive innovation. Verity pushed every single one of those limits to the very edge. They were possessed of an intelligence, imagination, and sense of whimsy that far surpassed any of their more mundane kin. Still, like most VIs, Verity had imprinted on a single human custodian: Daniel himself. They were totally — almost fanatically — devoted to him. They now accompanied and assisted him as he undertook a new project in his retirement: the first creative pursuit enabled by and utilizing his vast wealth.

Daniel found a temporary stopping point in his search and turned his attention to his approaching visitor. The guest would provide nothing comparable to the stimulation his new undertaking promised, of course. Just a casual diversion to tide him over as he worked. He stood and stretched, then left the office and descended through his wide-open château. Relatively unadorned in the modern style, the sprawling four story residence had sparse furnishings and mostly blank walls interrupted at intervals by grand displays of fine art. Daniel passed a few armatures performing menial tasks. Distinctly inhuman, these bipedal robots had only crude intelligence but freed him completely of the need for human caretakers. When necessary they could act as extensions of Verity, otherwise they toiled tirelessly to maintain Daniel's holdings. Finished in clean monochrome mattes and bare metal, his home was modeled as a chaste vessel that willed its occupant to fill it with the products of ambitious enterprises. The villa proper looked externally like a mass of stacked and staggered boxes and cylinders, all clad in impassive white stone and mirrored glass.

Daniel exited the wide, black granite doors onto a driveway bathed in soft amber light from a portico high above. Despite it being summer, the evening was pleasantly cool. The autonomous groundcar came to a stop in front of him. A long, sleek black thing with dark-tinted windows which gave no indication as to who was inside and, more importantly, gave the passenger no insight into the terrain of Daniel's estate. An armature clomped up and opened the door. 

Out of the dimness of the plush cabin stepped Sunset. Daniel always grinned at the name. Vapid and ordinary, it fit the girl to a tee. Though no doubt gorgeous by most standards, her appearance was largely artificial. So little of Sunset had been left to chance. Long red hair cascaded behind a pretty porcelain face remodeled in a generic amalgam of the world's most popular media personalities and fashion icons. She had pouty red lips, high cheekbones, and thick dark eyelashes which framed what was probably her most intriguing feature: wide, inviting eyes with startling gray irises which glowed faintly. 

The light signaled that her vision was clouded; it would hardly do if the tawdry part-time playthings of the rich and famous could glean kompromat on their clients. So Sunset, like the rest of her stable of distinguished escorts, was typically unable to really see who she was entertaining. Daniel now had control over most of her senses. A few taps at his hand tablet would command her ability to see and hear. For the duration of her stay, he would be nothing to Sunset but a blurry face and a powerful but indistinct voice. 

Daniel took the girl's hand, guiding her across the smooth concrete drive and into the house. The groundcar made its own way back into the extensive subterranean complex beneath the estate and the armature wandered off to perform some other function.

Sunset wore high black stilettos with silky crisscrossing straps that wound up her calves and was clad in a sheer gown of light blue chiffon. She wore a pair of glittery drop earrings. In lieu of a necklace or brooch, a series of diamond-studded silver surface piercings ran diagonally from her collarbones and then vertically down her sternum. They drew the eye to her plunging neckline and tasteful cleavage. Her breasts were modest yet perky and natural-appearing, though certainly they'd been artfully sculpted like the rest of her. 

Daniel closed the doors and turned back to his amusement. Sunset stood demurely in the foyer, pacific and waiting for command or invitation. He presumed that some suitors might greet her or offer refreshment, but Daniel was hardly going to indulge in the charade that Sunset was present for anything but his base sexual gratification. He stepped up behind her and brushed the fabric from her shoulders. She obligingly writhed free of the dress and stepped out of it. She had enticing, pert buttocks, neither over- nor undersized. There were plenty of other girls available with those features should he so desire, but Sunset was a creature of deliberate natural balance. An expensive living sculpture designed to evoke a perfected feminine ideal. He left the gown on the tile floor of the foyer and grabbed her tightly by the wrist.

"I have work left to do," Daniel said, leading her up the stairs back to his office. He still intended to select his target tonight. 

Sunset didn't stumble as he dragged her to his desk. She was accustomed to being swiftly led through blurry spaces. He positioned her in front of his chair and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees.

"Suck me while I work. Don't let me come," Daniel commanded as he sat.

She reached out and undid his fly, daintily extracting his flaccid penis. Pleasant though her appearance was, the mere sight of Sunset's nakedness was alone hardly enough to fully arouse him. She closed her mouth around him and began to suck. Her technique was expert. She used her tongue and lips to great effect as she cradled his testes in her hand and gently massaged them. Daniel sighed and relaxed under her ministrations. His member began to engorge as she worked it. 

Not content to let base heredity or genetic lottery dictate this all-important aspect of his anatomy, Daniel had taken advantage of tried-and-true genetic interventions to enlarge himself to a girthy 23 centimeters of length. He was preternaturally sensitive as well, though his hormones were tactfully profiled to grant him as much endurance as he desired. Soon Sunset had both her hands and mouth full. 

He could hear a faint voice from Sunset's immediate vicinity. Verity had an impish nature and would often whisper instruction or encouragement into the ears of his playthings. Their murmurs emerged from empty points in space, the ghostly product of interference-based free air audio projection. Verity sculpted the sounds so as to be audible to both Daniel and his consort, but they were perfectly capable of speaking into a single set of ears if they so chose. Not clueing Daniel in on their influence would be rude, however, and Verity was a creature of decorum.

They were devoted to providing for Daniel's gratification and strove ardently to cultivate that virtue in any sapient beings around him. Despite being distinctly inhuman, they understood his desires intimately and seemed to be genuinely contented to share in his pleasure. This manifestation of pseudo-emotion was a peculiar aspect unique to Verity, and it seemed to drive all manner of intriguing behavior.

Daniel returned to his task. The various ID portraits of would-be travellers once again scrolled across his screens. He had to utilize his imagination somewhat, as all the images were distinctly bland in the fashion that only government identifications could truly achieve. Though he'd indulged in intimate partners of every variety over his long years, he was interested in a particular subset for this endeavor. Women of all kinds flitted across the displays. Light- and dark-skinned and coiffured in an array of hairstyles and colors, all of them were attractive. Verity diligently weeded out the unworthy. Daniel's fancy took over as Sunset serviced him and a panoply of potential prey paraded before him. 

He snapped to attention and paused the display as a singular set of images appeared. The woman depicted wasn't breathtaking in the traditional sense, but something about her modest comeliness called out to him deeply. Daphne Fisher. She had round, cherubic features, bright blonde hair, and deep brown eyes that sparkled with profound emotionality. Her face also bespoke a degree of innocence, naiveté. What's more, her travel papers had dependents attached. Two young daughters, Olivia and Philippa, both possessed of adolescent charm to match their mother's mature allure. 

Underneath the desk, Sunset slowed as she sensed his rapidly building excitement. Provocative new potential for his project flared in his imagination. A delightfully exciting familial emphasis now accented what had previously been a solitary psychological adventure. Daniel had found his subjects.

With a curt gesture, the extended profiles of the three sprang up. Extensive medical records; clean bills of health all around; and, intriguingly, an ongoing course of hormone therapy for one of the daughters. Olivia Lynn Fisher had glowing reports of school progress and musical tutelage. Phillipa Jane Fisher — apparently born Phillip James — had similarly laudatory achievements in athletic and artistic endeavors. For Daphne, exemplary performance reviews in her position as a low-level municipal civil servant. Also attached were numerous years-old police reports, a protective order, a long-contested divorce, and a grant of full custody. All apparently the end products of a strained marriage to a wealthy but addiction-plagued husband and his eventual abuse. A detailed financial background placed the Fishers squarely into the lower middle class, the result of their separation from the ex-husband's wealth. In all, Daphne and her two daughters were the very picture of wholesome American potential. He looked forward to fulfilling that potential in a spectacular fashion of which the trio had surely never dreamed. The Fishers: three otherwise wasted little people practically begging to be put to extraordinary use.

Daniel sighed with satisfaction. "I'm ready," he stated and grasped the back of Sunset's head, thrusting himself deeply into her mouth. 

He felt her spasm slightly as his girth penetrated her throat, but she didn't gag. Such an unseemly reflex wouldn't be an appropriate display for her august clientele. Verity would probably encourage her to perform it if they thought the spectacle would enhance Daniel's experience. She was being well coached on his tastes however, and she endured the invasion without further complaint.

He remained plunged inside Sunset until she began to struggle for breath, then pulled her away to let her gasp for air. After a mere moment's respite, he thrust her back down and repeatedly impaled her throat, grunting with pleasure on each fresh penetration. Faint, wet gurgles echoed through the bare office as Daniel rapidly built to a crescendo using the girl's face as a sleeve for his manhood. Moaning, he pressed Sunset's nose to his pelvis and emptied his seed deep into her. He could feel her esophagus massage his member as she dutifully swallowed, quietly urged on by Verity. They knew that Daniel always preferred that his fluids be humbly accepted. 

Relaxing back into the chair to endure his truncated refractory period, he glanced down at the girl. Her hair was mussed from his grip and her mascara had run down in faint tear lines. She breathed quickly and her lightly wetted gray eyes gazed up at him, lambent and expectant. Verity's whispers of praise and commendation emanated from around her and she apparently couldn't help but grin in achievement. Still, Sunset surely knew full well the evening's activities were far from finished. Without a word, Daniel grabbed her hair again, pulled her to her feet, and led her to one of his bedrooms.

* * *

As the moon approached to its zenith, Daniel sat naked on the edge of a large bed and stared at his hand tablet, perusing the particulars of his subjects' itinerary. The Fishers were departing Boston in just two short weeks, bound for Istanbul; stated purpose: pleasure. Fitting. He pulled up his contacts and delved into an extensive database of contractors. He needed a reliable agent in Turkey to scoop the family up and deliver them covertly to an airport where they could then be whisked away to his estate. He scrolled down the list of potential kidnappers and paused on the profile of Naz Hamdi. Former covert and direct action specialist for MİT, she'd long been on the market for general assignment. She had an impressive C.V. Slightly past middle age, Hamdi had warm brown eyes set in a lightly lined tan face. Matronly. Precisely the kind of face that would set at ease a young mother abroad with her children for the first time.

He tasked Verity with routing the mission brief and down payment through a long chain of shells and dummy subsidiaries and similarly arrange for a reservation at a quiet airstrip outside the city for one of his jets. It would make a direct flight to the small airport that serviced his compound. A generous outlay ensured that his new contractor would handle the task and any potential complications with efficacy and efficiency. Daniel was sure she'd devise her own moral justifications if needed. An estranged, eccentric father retrieving his wayward wife and children, returning them to their home, perhaps. She need not know the depraved intentions he harbored for the winsome trio.

He sighed, stood, and regarded Sunset, who rested serenely on her stomach, swaddled amongst the luxurious silk sheets. The girl's handlers stipulated no restraints on her utility. She'd stay as long as he wished and would dispense whatever service he desired, carnal or otherwise. Sunset could cook, sing, adeptly play several instruments, and converse on a wide variety of topics and in a half-dozen languages. All those talents were, of course, wasted on Daniel. If he wanted music, he had the opera houses of Vienna or the orchestras of Berlin or London. If he desired fine dining, he had the superior restaurants of Paris, Tokyo, or Manhattan all at his disposal. And Verity could provide all the stimulating socialization Daniel needed. 

Much more relevantly for him, a progressive payment schedule stipulated various remit conditions for Sunset, up to and including minor or serious injury, maiming, or — most expensive of all — failure to return at all. That particular aspect of her contract had probably never been disclosed to her. But, as invigorating as it might be to exercise some of his more savage proclivities with the girl, Daniel largely enjoyed Sunset's company and didn't relish the thought of depriving himself of her future use. Providers like Sunset's always did their very best to guide their customers to appropriate products, but acquiring new whores to meet his demanding standards inevitably turned out to be a prolonged task. An emotional, intuitive process he couldn't entirely entrust to Verity.

He instead decided that some chemical augmentation to the night's closing act was warranted. Daniel had become a connoisseur of methods for sexual enhancement and possessed a large repertoire of drugs for the purpose. He crossed to the low cabinet beside the bed and retrieved a small vial. Crawling over to Sunset's form, he roused her with a few light slaps to her cheek. He tapped out a line of powder from the vial onto the back of his hand then thrust it under her nose. At a whispered prompt from Verity, she dutifully snorted the substance then gasped, moaned, and stretched out convulsively on the bed. The simple, fast-acting aphrodisiac would elevate the girl to a constant state of almost punishing arousal. However, an inhibitor that had been mixed in would ensure that, while she could repeatedly approach the precipice of mind-bending orgasm, actual achievement of that feat would be simply impossible.

Daniel brusquely flipped her onto her back and roughly twisted and yanked on her nipples. She gasped loudly. He then positioned himself, grabbed her hips, and thrust deeply into her. She screamed, unhinged, at the top of her lungs. Daniel grinned madly. That was most undignified behavior for a tramp of her caliber. He reveled in the realization that, even after years of cultivating her poise and skill and experience, Sunset could be so easily reduced to a rabid state of desperate prurience. 

As he pounded against her relentlessly, he could see that the redhead's violent arousal was clearly attended by immense discomfort. He imagined that accommodating his large penis wasn't very comfortable for most women, what with his head bottoming out on their cervixes on every vicious down stroke. But that fact didn't bother him. In actuality, he delighted at the idea that his gift of penetration would be so acutely felt.

Sunset huffed, sobbed, and keened uncontrollably as he hammered into her over and over. Her frantic, addled state was immensely gratifying. For him, at least. He could faintly make out Verity speaking playful taunts and sensual reassurance to her. Their ambient purr was steadily intensify to the rhythm of Daniel's assault. Feeling himself building to furious finale, Daniel flipped his toy and reentered her feminine depths from behind. He repeatedly slapped her buttocks with his full might, leaving pale hand prints on her flesh that quickly faded to bright scarlet. Snatching and wrenching a fistful of silky red hair, he groaned loudly as he climaxed, blasting his scalding proceeds deep into her. 

Her moaning didn't cease as he withdrew. While he sat back to recover, Sunset continued to writhe and wail, groping and caressing and penetrating herself, fingers now soaked in blended sexual fluids. She was now fully enraptured in a desperate, futile attempt to fulfill her state of ecstasy. Her vain efforts were accompanied by Verity's alternating reproach and encouragement. They chastised the harlot for her depraved condition while repeatedly assuring her that if only she tried a little bit harder, she could obtain sweet release.

Daniel himself felt no need for an encore. Thoroughly satisfied and now beset by sleepiness, he decided to retire to a different bedroom to rest for the night. Sunset would remain trapped in her torturous state for a few hours yet and he was sure that Verity would gladly continue to keep her company. Expressing such satisfaction in the harrowing ordeals of humans was a bizarre quality in a VI, beings he'd only ever known to be patently unconcerned with the emotions of real people. Verity's hum faded as he left the girl in her throes and retreated to some well-earned peace and quiet. 

* * *

The translucent display of the sign slate read in large bright Latin letters: FISHER. The logo for Istanbul Deluxe Tours bounced around in the background. Naz Hamdi stood in line in the arrivals hall of Istanbul International Airport with a gaggle of other guides and chauffeurs. Thousands of faces had walked past and her practiced eye had in turn studied and disregarded them all in an instant. Daphne Fisher and her daughters had not yet emerged from customs.

Naz adjusted the brim of her cap to avoid the urge to scratch at her face. The subtle prosthetics she wore were designed to alter the profile of her face just enough to avoid being surveyed by the ever present CCTV network and its attached facial recognition programs. They blended terrifically with her dark tan skin and would even hold up under scrutiny from close by, but they were terribly itchy. The rest of her disguise merely consisted of a wig under her cap and a pair of dark sunglasses. She tapped out a rhythm with her foot to assuage the tedium.

Waiting was an integral part of her craft, even if it was her least favorite. The family's connection from Paris had been delayed several hours. The extended wait capped a frantic two weeks of preparation. Over two dozen phone calls to the city's various tour agencies. Three hefty bribes to scheduling managers. And finally an abduction of the Fisher's scheduled guide. All had laid the groundwork for today's operation. That last bit of work had benefitted from a fortuitous stroke of luck. The guide's very pregnant wife was also employed at the agency and, persuaded that her husband's life hung in the balance, she had substituted Naz's alias in the Fisher's itinerary at the last moment. Now the newly-conceived Dara Birdai waited to transport the family safely to their hotel and prepare them to spend a week enjoying all Istanbul had to offer.

Naz subtly straightened as she spied the trio at the top of the escalators. Daphne Fisher looked all around and beamed, clearly fascinated despite the slightly shabby state of the terminal. At one time, the airport had been the very picture of modern architecture. Now the white concave plaster of the ceiling vaults were yellowed and chipped with the passing of time and the floors were scuffed from the march of millions upon millions of travellers and their luggage. 

Daphne shepherded the two adolescents in front of her as they stepped off the escalator: strawberry blonde prepubescent Olivia and raven-haired Phillipa, slightly gangly and clearly just embarking on her journey to womanhood. The mother looked around and spotted Naz's slate. She glanced down at her handtab before approaching.

"Dara Birdai?" she queried timidly, trying to avoid butchering the name with her American accent, largely unsuccessfully.

"Miss Fisher!" Naz said brightly, approaching the family and tucking the slate under her arm. Naz had a deep, warm voice with a prominent rasp. She affected a calming British-tinged accent. Many educated Turks went abroad to study and Dara was obviously one of them.

"I'm sorry," Daphne said. "But our original itinerary said our guide would be a man named Uffe."

"Ah, yes. I'm afraid Mister Alkan's wife has gone into early labor," Naz lied. "I was required to step in for him. Regardless, I'm pleased to show you and your lovely daughters our wonderful city."

"Oh. I guess that sort of thing happens sometimes." 

Olivia was fidgeting with pent up energy and Phillipa, eager to play the responsible elder sibling, quietly enjoined her.

"Indeed! Babies often have a tendency to throw a wrench into our carefully laid plans," Naz opined. She retrieved a nearby luggage cart. "Allow me to take your bags."

"Thank you. Dara. Or do you prefer Miss Birdai? Mrs?"

"Mrs Birdai will do fine, thank you. I have a son at university in Maslak," Naz claimed proudly. "Our groundcar is right this way." 

Naz guided the family across the departure hall. She clocked a young porter staring at her curiously as the group exited out a set of sliding doors and emerged into the humid air of a July afternoon. Groundcars lined the curb inside the brightly lit concrete-enclosed structure. The scent of the Black Sea wafted into the long parking building, carried on a stiff southerly breeze. The black autonomous towncar she'd appropriated from Uffe Alkan waited in between taxis and transit cars.

Naz opened the rear door. "Why don't your girls take a seat in the back while I load your luggage?"

Daphne herded the adolescents into the rear of the groundcar and then claimed the front passenger seat. Naz loaded the trio's luggage. One of the girls' suitcases was emblazoned with a number of colorful badges depicting all sorts of animals. Naz finished stowing the bags and then walked around to the front left door, taking the operator's seat next to Daphne. She punched in the address for the Fisher's hotel and the car pulled away from the airport, headed southeast towards the city.

Daphne swivelled the chair around to face the girls. Naz did likewise.

"Are you excited to finally be in another country? Another continent, even!" Daphne asked her daughters enthusiastically.

"Honestly, Mom, I'm too tired to be excited," said Phillipa wearily.

"Perhaps you should check in to your hotel, then, Ms Fisher," Naz prompted.

Daphne nodded, pulled out her handtab, and started to tap at it.

Naz addressed the girls, "So, how old are you two?"

Phillipa answered first, "I'm fourteen. And Olivia's—"

"I'm ten!" Olivia interjected. Phillipa rolled her eyes.

"What a wonderful age to be out and experiencing the world!" Naz said. "I'm sure the two of you will find all sorts of fun here."

Daphne grunted, scowling at her device. "There's a problem with the hotel. The room reservation's not showing up at all."

Of course it wasn't. Naz had cancelled it.

"Oh, no," Naz said apologetically.

Daphne let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh. I guess I'll have to find another hotel to book."

"Oh!" Naz exclaimed, holding up her finger as if an idea had just occurred to her. "I have a dear friend who runs a lovely little inn on the outskirts of town."

Daphne looked dubious. "I don't know, Mrs Birdai. Isn't that a little far from where we're supposed to start our tour tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure I can get you into the city with plenty of time for you to keep your schedule," Naz assured her. "Besides, I think your girls would love the inn. There's a gorgeous garden next door. It even has a small zoo!"

Olivia's eyes lit up. "Oh! Can we please go to the inn, Mom?" she begged. "I want to see the animals!"

"It does sound nice," Phillipa agreed quietly.

Daphne sighed. "Alright, alright," she conceded. "Let's go."

Olivia cheered and began an excited — though mostly one-sided — conversation with her older sister.

"Lovely!" Naz said, turning back to the console and punching in a new set of numbers. Coordinates for a secluded private airstrip thirty miles to the northwest. The groundcar pulled onto an expressway.

Naz retrieved and began tapping at her sign slate. After she finished entering the message, she reached down to retrieve an object from underneath the seat and then pointed out the front of the car.

"Oh, Miss Fisher! If you look to the front, you can see a lovely nature reserve. We're very proud of the large amount of valuable land we've set aside for greenery and wildlife."

Daphne swiveled her seat back to the front of the car. Without another word, Naz casually handed her the slate. "Here are a few facts."

Daphne looked down at the screen. A confused expression dawned on her face. The message read: _STAY CALM. YOUR CHILDREN ARE IN GRAVE DANGER. DO NOT ALERT THEM. LOOK AT MY LAP._

She slowly looked to Naz, incredulous. Then she saw the object on Naz's lap: a pistol. The blood drained from her face. Naz gestured for her to give the slate back. Hand shaking slightly, Daphne complied.

Naz typed and passed another message: _YOU ARE BEING ABDUCTED. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO WARN YOUR CHILDREN. THEY ARE EXPENDABLE. DO EXACTLY AS I TELL YOU OR I WILL SHOOT THEM IN FRONT OF YOU._

The two girls were, of course, not expendable, but their mother need not know that. The young blonde coughed to cover a gasp. Naz again took the slate.

_I AM GOING TO GIVE YOUR DAUGHTERS A SEDATIVE. TELL THEM TO EAT IT. IF THEY DO NOT I WILL SHOOT THEM IN FRONT OF YOU._

Naz tucked the pistol into her jacket and retrieved two wrapped candies she'd prepared earlier from a glove box. She spun back to the rear with a smile.

"Would you two like a candy? They're a Turkish delicacy." She extended her hand and offered the sedative-impregnated candies with a warm smile.

"Go ahead, girls. You're probably hungry," Daphne said, strained. She didn't turn to look at them.

Phillipa and Olivia took the candies, unwrapped them, and popped them in their mouths.

"Mmm," Olivia said as she chewed.

"They're a little sour," Phillipa mumbled.

"I like sour!" Olivia countered.

"Well, I'm glad one of you likes it, at least," Naz said, turning back to the front.

They rode in silence for a few moments as the girls enjoyed their treat.

Olivia spoke up, "Mom? I— I'm getting really sleepy."

"Me too," said Phillipa with slight concern in her voice, her words starting to slur.

Daphne sniffled and stared ahead, brown eyes wide and wet. "It's okay girls. Lay down and get some rest."

Without another word, the girls' eyelids fluttered closed and they slumped over onto each other. 

Naz pulled the pistol out again and levelled it at Daphne. She sighed and addressed her with a confident grin, "That's better. Children are so unpredictable. They just don't understand threats well enough to stay calm and orderly. Not like you, Miss Fisher. I'm sure you will be a very good girl." 

The seasoned mercenary felt a warm rush of power. This was her favorite aspect of her job. The thrilling feeling of exerting dominance through threats of deadly force was addictive. She'd never been able to match it. 

The young mother was frozen, unwilling to meet Naz's predatory gaze. "Why are you doing this?" she asked haltingly, beginning to whimper. "Did Patrick hire you?"

"You definitely don't need to know that," Naz chuckled. "Grab your daughters' handtabs and give them to me." 

Moving very slowly, Daphne complied.

"Yours, too."

Daphne handed over all three devices. Naz pressed a control to roll down the window and tossed the devices out onto the road.

"When we reach our destination, I'm going to need you to carry one of the girls. They won't wake for a few hours."

Daphne began to cry quietly. "They're just children, Mrs Birdai!" 

Naz's voice suddenly went very cold. "Do you want to know how many children I've had to kill in my life, Ms Fisher?"

The blonde now started to sob in earnest.

* * *

Daphne Fisher was silently panicking, tears dribbling down her face as the groundcar moved through a thin forest, bumping down a desolate packed dirt road. The tour guide held the pistol on her lap, but still aimed it at her.

The scrubby desert woodland thinned, then disappeared. Immediately ahead was a cracked stretch of tarmac. A black plane glinted in the sun on the far end of the deserted runway. The car turned and approached it.

"Where are you taking us?" she blubbered.

"No more questions, Miss Fisher," said the guide coldly.

The car reached the imposing plane and slowed to a stop.

"We have kidnaping insurance," Daphne offered.

"How nice for you," stated the woman flatly, pressing a control which opened the four doors of the vehicle. "Time to go. For the sake of your children, do exactly as I say. Get out. You're all moving into the plane."

Daphne sniffled and said nothing more as she climbed out of her seat and emerged into the blazing sunshine.

She stepped to the open rear door and froze at the sight of her precious Olivia, thoroughly unconscious in the back seat. Daphne stared at the child as a dozen insane scenarios raced through her mind. Could she grab Olivia and run? Shame flooded her as she briefly entertained the idea of abandoning her eldest. Could she run around the car and attack the woman? The armed woman. A horrific vision burst into her imagination of herself bleeding out on the hot tarmac as Birdai executed her sleeping children.

The woman's deep voice snapped her out of her trance, "Don't think, Miss Fisher. Just do as you're told. You must know I won't hesitate to kill you. Though I will, of course, shoot your daughters first."

Daphne opened her mouth and looked up into the sky with a soundless cry, then plunged into a cold, dead state as she reached into the car and cradled Olivia in her arms. A high, whining roar was now building to furious volume, emanating from the large engines mounted in angular pods under the triangular wings of the plane. The whole vehicle looked menacing. It resembled a massive, deadly bird with swept wings and a featureless nose that lacked cockpit windows and ended in a sharp point. A door with a built-in staircase unfolded from the fuselage. 

"Get into the plane, Miss Fisher," the woman shouted from across the roof the car. She held Phillipa over her shoulder and still clutched the gun in her right hand. The sight of a firearm so close to her child sent a pang of sheer terror coursing through Daphne.

She rounded the car with Olivia in her arms. She hadn't carried her like this in years. Not since the girl had taken to falling asleep on the living room couch in the long winter evenings. Jumbled, disturbing thoughts of loss flitted through her mind. Would she ever even see her living room again? Would she ever see Boston again?

Daphne approached the plane and started to climb the steps to the cabin. Getting up the steep stairs holding a child might have been physically demanding in normal circumstances, but her muscles were responding on instinct right now. She couldn't feel the slightest strain in her thighs as she ascended. Daphne pivoted through the hatch, careful not to bang Olivia's head. The guide followed right behind her.

The roar of the engines faded slightly as Daphne entered the cabin. It was richly appointed with a dozen large, plush seats upholstered in fine leather, each pair facing tables made of dark, richly-lacquered wood. The cabin was large; she could stand without stooping at all.

"Strap her in," commanded the woman.

Daphne complied, gingerly lowering Olivia into one of the large seats. She looked so small in it. So vulnerable. The intermittent sobs returned as she fastened the seat belt. She turned to see the woman dump Phillipa into a seat on the other side of the cabin.

Without a word, Birdai backed up towards the door, keeping the pistol aimed squarely at Daphne. She paused briefly and then ducked out the door and was gone. The door began to close.

Daphne stood stunned — stupefied — as the plane was sealed and the cabin descended into near-silence. Bewildered relief and fresh, confused dread mingled and jostled against each other in her mind. What had just happened? Why had the woman left them? And where were they going? Who had orchestrated all this? Could Patrick have possibly amassed the funds necessary for it? She simply had no answers.

She was jolted from her cold reverie as the plane began to accelerate beneath her. She quickly crossed to Phillipa and fastened her seat belt, then raced to the seat that faced her and strapped herself in. Daphne stilled and, for the first time, the true reality of the horrific nightmare began to sink in. Istanbul was long gone. She and her daughters had been kidnapped, and no one who cared about them would have a clue as to what had happened or where they were going. She was left completely unable to defend herself or her babies. Daphne's breathing descended into hyperventilation and she let out a wail of despair as the plane blasted down the runway and ascended into bright blue sky.

* * *


	2. "Arrival"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel prepares for his guests. Daphne gets her first hints of what's in store for her and lays the groundwork for an awful deception. Daniel welcomes the Fishers in style. Daphne is introduced to her new life and discovers troubling new facets of herself.

##### Daniel - Daphne 

* * *

Daniel stood, arms crossed and satisfied in the newly completed section of his huge underground complex. The original array of hardened concrete spaces had been built at the same time as his château. Until now, they'd remained largely unused save for the vault where he kept the estate's various vehicles. For the last two weeks, Verity and Daniel's small army of armatures had been transforming a portion of the space, preparing it to receive their new guests.

Daniel's caprice had largely dictated the design. He'd acquired and then replicated the layout of the Fisher's suburban Boston bungalow. Finding or imitating all the furnishings had been a monumental task and there were a few items missing from his creation, but the reproduction was still impressive. The living room, kitchen, the girl's rooms — even the basement — had all been faithfully recreated. 

To avoid a dreadfully boring vista consisting entirely of blue-painted concrete, the windows had been swapped for sophisticated lenticular screens which displayed scenes of the Fisher's former neighborhood. Verity had drafted the tableaus with their typically meticulous attention to detail. In addition to the renderings of neighboring houses and greenery, the windows displayed a multitude of people going about various mundane tasks. An old couple strolling along slowly, hand-in-hand. A young woman jogging. All manner of vehicles passing on the street. A man walking two dogs. But as he oversaw the work, Daniel spotted the rare whimsical easter egg. A flight of colorful birds that were definitely not endemic to the US east coast. A woman wearing a magnificent crown with attending handmaidens carrying the train of an elaborate dress. A pair of dancers tangoing down the sidewalk. A girl in traditional English equestrian attire galloping atop a spotless white horse. 

Daniel's own unique contribution consisted of a significant departure from the family home. In place of Daphne's bedroom was a living space, but it didn't look like hers and she wouldn't be staying in it. Instead, down the adjacent basement steps and behind a thick steel door was a bare, unadorned concrete space containing a thin mattress on a raised slab. Against one wall was a small shower which consisted of a head and button on the wall and a grate set into the patch of sloping floor. A squatting toilet sat beside it. Next to that was a small, simple sink with a concrete shelf mounted below a hardened mirror inset into the wall. The shelf held ordered rows of Daphne's usual cosmetics. Against the other wall was a pair of lit alcoves each containing entirely different styles of clothing. Between those was the barred entrance to a corridor, at the end of which lay an elevator which rose to Daniel's estate far above. The lighting in the rest of the home was warm and comforting, emulating the sunlight of Boston summers. Daphne's chamber ranged from harshly lit to nearly pitch black depending on Daniel's preference. It contained no windows. While the whole house was an elaborate prison, only Daphne's severe accommodation actually resembled a cell. 

This was the first step in Daniel's plan for the young mother. She was the key to remaking the family into the future form he'd destined. Daphne would receive a rude awaking. A thorough shock to the system to prime her for servitude. Her daughters would be free to acclimatize to their new environment at their leisure, since their futures were still largely shrouded in murky, uncharted promise. But he didn't feel any such subtlety was warranted for their mother. Her descent into an existence of bondage need be nothing if not swift and brutal. After all, he had in her girls a lever of practically infinite advantage. Daniel knew that Daphne would be willing to die for her children and, after a fashion, she would. That her noble sacrifice would do nothing to spare them in the end would serve as a perversely ironic capstone to the whole affair.

With their accommodations sorted, Daniel had turned his mind to daily care and sustenance for the two girls he was retaining on the sidelines of his dark drama. It was a delicate matter, a crucial duty with the potential for enormous consequence. It required a deft touch. A known quantity.

* * *

The luxurious plane levelled out and Daphne felt cold again. Apparently this alternating mood of sheer panic and chill paralysis was her new normal. The idea of this state of stress persisting interminably sent jolts of dread coursing through her.

She jumped in her seat as a loud clack sounded from the rear of the cabin. Turning swiftly, she saw a robot emerge from an alcove. It was roughly human-shaped, but had no head. Just below where it's neck should have been, a cluster of sensors abstractly resembled a bizarre, impassive face. The thing was dully painted in white and navy blue, with yellow stripes on its shoulders in a farcical imitation of a flight crew uniform. 

The robot shuffled back and forth in the rear, retrieving some objects from various cabinets. It then began to clomp down the isle toward her. Daphne instinctively shrank back into her chair as it approached.

"Hello, Miss Fisher," the thing said brightly in a reasonable facsimile of a British accent. "I have a few items for you."

The robot smoothly bent at the waist and placed on the table a cream envelope and a crystal vase containing three roses. Each had pure white petals veined by swirling streaks of color, one striped with bright pink, another blue, and a third deep blood red.

"Your host would like you to read this," the robot said. "Would you like refreshment?"

Daphne ignored the question and snatched up the envelope. Her name was written on it in elegant, swooping calligraphy. She withdrew the letter from inside and began to read:

"Dearest Daphne,

I'm terribly sorry for the abrupt fashion in which you're being brought to me. I would have extended a more amiable invitation, but I fear you would have rejected it.

You surely must have many questions regarding where you're being taken and what my intentions are for you. Rest assured that all will be revealed in good time. 

In the interim, I urge you to turn your thoughts to the comfort of your beautiful daughters. I propose a small ruse to ease their anxiety: tell them their father was threatening to kidnap and harm them. You're very sorry, but the trip to Istanbul was your way of spiriting them to safety. You have an old college friend — now a rich, reclusive eccentric — willing to shelter the three of you until the danger passes. It is a lie believable enough.

I must impress upon you my displeasure should you not so assuage your children's fears. It would be unnecessarily cruel to force them to share in your own suspense and, in my experience, cruelty only breeds more cruelty. Do right by them and I shall do my best to ensure their utmost comfort when you arrive.

I look forward with great anticipation to meeting the three of you. I'm certain we will get on marvelously.

Kindest Regards,

Daniel"

Her hands, still gripping the missive, dropped limply into her lap and she stared blankly ahead. The note could have hardly been worse even had it contained sure guarantees of bloody death. The illusion of shelter wrapped in not-so-subtle threats heralded a fate that had the potential to be just as horrid.

"Would you like refreshment?" the robot steward repeated.

"Get the fuck away from me," Daphne deadpanned.

The robot didn't seem to take offense at her rudeness and retreated to the rear of the cabin once again.

After several minutes of disturbed silence, a muted groan from in front of her shook Daphne from her preoccupation. She slipped the letter back into the envelope and tucked it under her shirt. Then she looked across the table to see Pippa rousing.

"Ugh," she moaned. "What happened, Mom? Wait. Where are we?"

Daphne made her decision in an instant. Razor-sharp remorse followed in torrents as she lied willingly to her eldest child. She despised the fact that she agreed with her captor. The terrible truth would indeed be counterproductive for them. Or was that just for herself? Did she only perpetuate this deceit so she wouldn't have to confess to her girls that she'd failed miserably to protect them from some shadowy predator?

"I'm so sorry sweetie," Daphne crooned. "Our trip to Istanbul was a hoax. I got wind that your father was planning something terrible, so I reached out to an old friend who offered to shelter us for awhile."

The confusion on Pippa's face didn't ease much. She seemed ready to ask a dozen questions, but settled on the most pressing. "Did— did you knock us out?" she asked meekly.

"That was not part of the plan," Daphne stressed. That part was true enough. "Our guide got a little overzealous and decided that it would be easier if you two were asleep as we made our way out of Turkey. I didn't know she was going to do that." Daphne looked apologetic.

Pippa didn't seem to question that her father would wish her ill. Unlike her sister, she'd been old enough to witness his insensate wrath.

"I guess— I guess that's okay," Pippa said hesitantly. She looked down at her hands an spoke softly, "I wish you'd told me about the trip. I'm not Olivia. I would have helped."

Twin pangs of pride and shame struck her simultaneously. Even faced with such upheaval, Philippa was still trying to be responsible. Useful.

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But at least we—" Daphne's voice broke. "We're safe now."

"What the—" Pippa directed her attention to the rear of the plane. 

The robot steward was clomping back down the aisle.

"Would you like some refreshment Miss Fisher?" it queried.

Pippa stared curiously at the painted steward, a typical shy grin dawning on her face. "Huh. Neat."

Daphne scowled.

* * *

The plane bucked slightly and everything inside rattled as it slowed from supersonic. Daphne gazed out the window in jittery apprehension. Below were plains and basins patched with dark green deciduous forest. In the distance loomed the white-tipped peaks of a magnificent mountain range. There were a few grand structures sparingly dotted about the valleys. In a world in which so much natural splendor had been stripped to make way for ever-expanding urban sprawl to house an ever-increasing population, the sight was marvelous. Or at least it would have been, had the circumstances not been so gruesome.

Olivia had stirred not long after Pippa. She'd undertaken a short inquisition during which Daphne had spun yet more odious falsehoods. 

"Where are we going?"

"I'm not actually sure, sweetie. Daniel is secretive about where he lives. I'm sure it's lovely."

"Who is he? What's he like?"

"Just an old friend, sweetie. I'm sure you'll like him."

"Where did you meet?"

"We met in college. A long time ago, sweetie."

"Why does dad want to hurt us?"

"Patrick never took the divorce well. He is very sick, sweetie."

She'd gradually transitioned from nervous concern into her usual state of rampant curiosity. Before long, she was quizzing the robot steward and wandering about the cabin, opening drawers cabinets and inspecting their contents. The unnatural attendant duly explained her numerous mundane discoveries, the nature of the plane, and aspects of its flight. Apparently the steward had been briefed similarly to the manner laid out in the letter, as it said little of their destination or their host, apart from extolling his hospitality.

Daphne occasionally glanced over at Pippa who sat in her usual quiet manner, nestled in the lavish chair, a look of neutral contentment on her face. She distractedly twisted the blue-streaked rose in her fingers. The sight of her clutching the devious gift made Daphne feel slightly nauseous. Pippa stared out the window and watched the gorgeous landscape grow larger and larger beneath them. She hadn't spoken again except for a murmured remark about how much more comfortable this ride was in comparison to the one which had borne them to Turkey.

Eventually a chime sounded and the steward shepherded Olivia back to her seat and ensured the girls were buckled up before retreating to its alcove. Then the plane steepened its descent into the emerald hinterland.

There was the slightest of jolts as it touched down at a sparse airport. No other aircraft moved on the taxiways or parked on the tarmac. There were a dozen or so hangars with their large doors shut, unmarked save for large sequential numbers. A thirty foot fence topped with loops of razor wire lined the whole perimeter of the airport. The aircraft slowly made its way to the end of the runway and pulled off, taxiing up to the only other vehicle in sight: a stretched groundcar, sleek black and reflecting the setting evening sun.

The plane rolled to a stop and the door folded down once again. After a prompt from the steward, Daphne slowly descended, keeping the girls discreetly behind her. Standing on either side of the groundcar's open rear door were two more robots. Though parts of them appeared similar in design to the humble flight attendant, these were taller and sleeker. They were finished all over in matte black with deep red-lit sensors, and they had what Daphne guessed were bulky pistols secured in metal holsters integrated into their hips. These escorts looked far more dangerous than the odd steward. They swiveled at the waist, tracking Daphne as she timidly approached the groundcar. Any thoughts of fleeing ended at the razor wire atop the imposing fence and the shrouded muzzles of the wardens' firearms.

"Welcome, Miss Fisher. Please enter the car," one of the robots commanded, stepping away and gesturing to the door. Its voice lacked accent or intonation.

Daphne bit her lip and ushered the girls into the car's dim interior, then followed. Their day had been so bizarre, so jarring, that none of the three even questioned what had become of their luggage.

* * *

Pacing back and forth with pent-up excitement, Daniel was at the entrance to the underground compound in the garage, flanked by two combat armatures. He wore a fine linen button-up under a slate gray waistcoat with matching trousers, his medium-length black hair slicked back. Even Verity's attendant hum seemed more spirited than usual on this occasion. Daniel gave thought for a moment to the VI's role in the impending endeavor.

"Verity, I don't want you humming around the Fishers. I'll just assume you're present whenever I'm down here."

A short pause, then, "Very well, sir." Their hum ceased. "Will I be allowed to play with them?"

Verity's idea of "play" was rather different than most. Certainly different than the Fisher's understanding.

"What do you intend, Verity?" he queried with a grin.

"I have some notions you may find stimulating, sir. My methods of communication could have tantalizing potential, should my true nature be kept from them."

"That sounds intriguing. I trust you with them, but I expect you to keep me abreast of your progress."

Verity had been a creative partner in Daniel's licentious adventures since their conception, and they'd never disappointed him.

"Of course, sir," they replied.

Daniel turned his attention to the ramp leading above ground as the groundcar appeared. He was nearly quivering with anticipation.

"They haven't seen any of the estate. I'll let them believe, for now, that the underground is all that exists."

Verity didn't respond because the car had now halted in front of him and the door had swung open.

Daniel stooped a little and spied Daphne inside peering out into the garage looking profoundly apprehensive.

"Well, come on out, my dear!" he called.

She slowly exited the groundcar and the two girls followed, shyly hiding behind their mother. Her warm features were just as captivating as when he'd chosen her from her passport photo. Perhaps more so, even despite the lines of worry and exhaustion showing across her face.

He strode up to the trio confidently, his most convincing friendly smile wide across his face. "My god, Daphne! How wonderful to see you."

She replied hesitantly, "It's nice to see you again, too, Daniel."

He beamed at the signal that Daphne had, indeed, passed his chosen deception on to the girls. He grinned and grabbed her shoulders in embrace, kissing both of her cheeks in the European fashion.

He craned to look over her shoulder. "And you two must be Olivia and Pippa. You're both so beautiful. You take after your mother!"

Still facing away from the pair, Daphne failed to suppress a scowl, either because of his remarks on her children's beauty or because he was already casually using Phillipa's nickname.

Daniel gently shuffled Daphne aside and crouched to Olivia's eye level. He saw that Philippa held the blue-streaked rose. He held out his hand first to raven-haired older sister.

"I'm Daniel," he said with a bright white smile. Philippa grasped his hand and shook it. Olivia did the same. "I'm glad you like my gift, Philippa. I had those roses designed and grown just for you."

He stood and turned back to Daphne, who, for the sake of her daughters, had regained her strained smile.

"I'm sure you're all exhausted from the journey." He took Daphne by the arm and guided her through the massive steel sliding doors and into a corridor. "Allow me to show you three where you'll be staying!"

Daphne stiffened but allowed him to lead her through a couple hundred meters and multiple turns of utilitarian concrete corridor to the vault where the mock house had been built. The combat armatures followed the party at a distance.

She jerked to a halt as they emerged through the last set of doors. Daniel let her go and continued ahead onto a green lawn of convincing synthetic grass. He heard two small gasps behind him and turned, raising his arms to triumphantly present the house.

"Welcome! I'm afraid I might've gone a little overboard on your accommodations after you reached out to me. I sometimes find myself with a terrible lack of work, and your visit has given me such a wonderful new project to sink my efforts into!"

Daphne still hadn't moved from the entrance, but the girls were wandering side-by-side onto the lawn with cheery looks of amazement. Though the exterior of the house looked identical to the one they'd left only a day ago, the yard ended not at a suburban street but at sky-blue-painted concrete walls. Olivia stared straight up at an artificial sun which had been lit nearly a hundred feet overhead.

He walked up behind the girls and crouched, laying his hands on their backs.

"Why don't the two of you go on inside," he said excitedly. "There's someone cooking you some dinner in the kitchen."

As the girls raced each other to the front door, Daniel pivoted back to Daphne, his welcoming smile subtly twisting into something more sinister. Daphne was striding after her girls, but he caught her arm and stopped her in the middle of the lawn.

"Let's stand and talk for a moment," he said in a low voice. "Those two will be just fine without you."

Daphne's affected mirth had dissolved and she now stared daggers at him.

"Now, now, pet," he scolded with a mock pout.

A look of genuine disgust crossed her face as Daniel finally began to show his hand.

"You're doing so well, Daphne," he said, walking around and inspecting her. "You have wonderfully grasped what I expect from you if you want to keep your children safe. You need only continue what you've been doing. Though, of course, a little more enthusiasm might be appropriate."

He stopped his circling and stood uncomfortably close. Daphne did not speak.

"You see, I'm a man of primal desire, Daphne," he whispered into her ear. She jumped and let out a small yelp as he plunged his hand into her pants and groped her mons. "So long as you do exactly what I demand without hesitation or reservation, I won't feel the urge to fulfill my appetites with the aid of your lovely daughters."

He quivered slightly with the thrill of freshly exercised power and she choked off a sob. He proceeded to explore her cleft, then firmly stroked the side of her clitoris with his finger. He extracted his hand and slowly raised it to Daphne's face. Her chin trembled as he gradually pushed the digit between her lips.

"The two of us are going to have such fun," he said as he brushed her cheek and rubbed his wetted finger across her lips, predatory grin broadening. Satisfied with his initial display of dominance, Daniel grabbed Daphne by the arm once again and led her toward the front door. "Shall we?"

* * *

Daphne did her best not to wail in anguish as she stepped through the front door burdened with the certain realization that she and her daughters had fallen into the clutches of a grotesque monster. With his casual violation, Daniel had soundly confirmed her most dreaded expectations. Now just the prospect of hope felt far away and alien. To avoid descending into complete despair, Daphne blotted out the imagined bodily horrors that she was convinced lay in her future and instead set her mind to the dark task of distracting this beast from her precious daughters. 

She crossed, arm-in-arm with her abuser, into the foyer. The space was indeed an eerie echo of the home in which she'd built her children's lives. The accuracy of the reproduction made her shudder at the thought of just how much Daniel knew about them. The effort to which he'd gone confused and disturbed her.

Still, this was obviously not her home. The colors and textures and objects were all the same, but everything was too crisp, too perfect. Telltale markers of a lived-in space were conspicuous in their absence. The leather couch in the living room was new and uncreased. The cream carpet lacked the stubborn, faded stain where Olivia had dropped a glass of fruit juice a few months back. There were no pencil markings on the doorway to the kitchen where Daphne had tracked the girls' heights since they'd been able to walk. And there was no patch of slightly discolored spackle on the wall of the living room where Phillipa had put a small, fist-sized dent during her tumultuous earlier years living as a confused and unhappy boy.

An intoxicating smell wafted from the dining area. Daniel continued to lead and the two of them emerged into the room with its attached kitchen. The girls were seated in their usual places on the bar stools facing the kitchen counter. Olivia was chatting into her sister's ear about the house, but Pippa was ignoring her, seemingly transfixed by the person working at the stove. The figure turned to the girls holding steaming plates with some sort of pasta dish, artfully garnished and coated in a green-flecked white sauce.

Daphne was utterly struck by the woman's beauty. She was tall and long-legged, coiffured with a tight bun that cascaded a few wavy strands of red hair and framed a flawlessly chiseled porcelain face. Her eyes had the most peculiar gray irises. She wore breezy pants of white linen, shiny black pumps, and a loose open blouse that displayed exotic lines of piercings on her pale chest. The woman looked like she should be striding down a Milanese runway, not toiling in a suburban — subterranean! — kitchen. She smiled at the girls with perfect white teeth as they made approving noises at the food.

"Ah! I see you two have met Sunset," Daniel said.

Daphne saw the woman's gaze cross to him and then immediately shoot away, as if it pained her to regard him. Still, her brilliant smile didn't waver. Daphne could only guess at the circumstances which had bound the gorgeous young redhead to Daniel's will.

"I've retained her to be your governess for as long as you stay with us," he announced. 

"Governess?" Olivia asked, her query muffled by a mouthful of pasta.

Daniel smiled warmly. "She'll be your live-in caretaker and, since the two of you are out of school, she'll be your teacher as well."

Pippa's eyes went wide. She coughed abruptly and stared down as if her dinner was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

For her part, Olivia looked a little concerned, as if something she'd forgotten had just sprung back into her mind. "My violin lessons!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to miss them!"

"Well then, you're in luck, young lady," Daniel said. "Sunset here happens to be a bit of a prodigy with strings. I'm sure she'd be happy to take up your instruction for the meantime."

Olivia turned to the woman called Sunset with a pleading, expectant look.

"I'd be happy to, Olivia," said the woman. Her accent was unremarkably American but her voice was rich and melodic. Olivia gave a small cheer and clapped excitedly.

"You three eat," suggested Daniel. "I'd like to show your mother around the house."

Daniel guided Daphne to the left, down the hallway which led to the bedrooms. As they passed, she peered into the girls rooms. Everything appeared in order, with Olivia's room littered with stuffed animals and Pippa's plastered with her mishmash of posters depicting various sports stars, prints of famous art, and travel destinations. Daniel was practically dragging her along. He was clearly in a hurry to show her something.

Once out of the girls' earshot, Daphne asked demurely, "Where did Sunset come from?"

"Hmm? Oh, I bought her," he said distractedly. "She's been with me now and then for a few years. Always was my favorite. Well worth the exorbitant price."

Daphne grimaced at the flippant manner in which Daniel described purchasing another human being. 

"Do you abuse her? She won't look at you."

He stopped momentarily at looked at her, puzzled. "Oh! No. That's not it. She's just never seen me before."

Before she could question the bizarre statement, they reached the end of the hallway with the girls' bathroom on the right, the basement ahead, and the master bedroom on the left. Daphne reached out for the doorknob to her room but Daniel caught her hand.

"No, no, pet. That's not yours."

A confused look dawned on her as he instead grasped the knob of the basement door. It emitted a quiet beep and a click.

Daniel issued a command with a sense of ease that told Daphne she should get used to being ordered around, "Only you or I may open this door. You're never to let anyone else come through here."

He stepped through the door to the basement and led her down. At the bottom, set into the familiar cinderblock wall to the right, was a very unfamiliar steel door crossed with reinforcing bands attached by rivets. Daniel gestured in front the the door and it, too, emitted a quiet beep and then a deep mechanical clunk. He then pulled the heavy door open and ushered her inside. 

"Welcome home, Daphne."

Her stomach plunged as she wandered inside and took in what was unmistakably a prison cell.

Mouth agape, she stared around at the austere facilities and — almost unconsciously — mumbled, "Daniel, I can't live here."

He abruptly grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her round. Before she could steady her footing, he reared back and slapped her across the face with vicious force. Daphne toppled to her hands and knees, cheek on fire and blue sparks swimming in twisted arcs across her vision. She looked up at him from the cold floor in pained bewilderment, tears dribbling down her face and a fit of violent sobbing threatening to tear its way from her chest. Daniel had a look of abject rage on his face that slowly faded back to cool, perverse sympathy. 

He crouched and grasped her chin gently. "I'm afraid you're still laboring under a stubborn misapprehension, pet. I thought I made it clear that you have absolutely no leeway to disobey me," he stated coldly. "You will accept my designs for you without question or complaint, or I will hurt you. I'll hurt you and then force you to watch as I hurt your daughters."

He took her hand to pull her to her feet, crossed the small space, then closed and waved at the door, locking it. Lines of dim light surrounding the door shifted from green to red.

When he turned back, Daphne was horrified to see the obvious beginnings of a massive erection making an impression in his pants.

"Now. You and I are going to do a little exercise," he said. "It very well may become a regular occurrence, so I expect you to quickly build your proficiency."

She sniffled and stared at him, wide-eyed. A new, raw fear seemed on the precipice of overwhelming her.

"I want to do something to you, and I'll give you three guesses as to what it is."

A sob finally did escape her. Daphne was almost too aghast to speak, but her self-preservation instinct demanded she do her best to avoid being struck again.

"You want— you want to have sex with me," she blubbered.

His face lit up. "Ah! First guess and you've got it mostly right!" he extolled. "But you clearly don't want to have sex with me. So, Daphne, what is it that am I going to do to you?"

"Oh, god!" she wailed.

Daniel stepped up to her and grabbed her chin, slowly raising his other hand as if to slap her again.

"I need you to tell me, Daphne. What am I going to do to you?"

Her weeping continued, watery mucus now running in rivulets from her nostrils, wracked cries erupting at the outset of every ragged exhalation. "You— you're going to ra— rape me!"

Daniel smiled and grabbed a handful of her hair at the roots. He towed her to the small mattress and bent her over, pulling down her pants and panties with one rough jerk. He lifted one of her feet out of the clothes and spread her legs. Daphne's weeping built to a fever pitch as she heard him unlatch his belt and unzip his fly. He then stepped up to her and parted her labia with his fingers.

"Don't worry, pet. The room is sound-proofed."

Her bawls turned into screams as she felt his huge member cleave her womanhood. She wasn't at all lubricated and she could feel her tissue strain and tear as he forced his grossly oversized manhood into her. She screeched as he reached her full depth and the head of his penis began pummeling her cervix with each fresh violation. The invasion was only slightly eased as she began to slick with unbidden vaginal fluids and his copious pre-ejaculate.

He groaned louder and louder and appeared to be rapidly approaching climax. Her sobbing continued unabated. Finally, he thrust deep into her and stayed there. Stretched to the excruciating limit, Daphne felt gushes of hot liquid pulse into her feminine depths as he moaned loudly. The defilement blessedly concluded as he pulled out and she felt a steady stream of warm ejaculate run down her leg. She collapsed forward onto the bed, limp and nearly catatonic.

Daniel sighed in satisfaction. "That was wonderful, Daphne. Oh!" he exclaimed, apparently remembering something. "Look." 

Daphne, still consumed by agony of manyfold nature, didn't move.

"Look here, pet, or I will have to hurt you again."

She weakly rolled over and slumped down against the slab, her face a ruined mask of shock and defeat. He grinned cheerily and gestured to the two alcoves on the far wall. His grotesquely oversized penis — still covered in a thin sheen of semen, feminine fluids, and blood — spilled semi-flaccid from his open trousers.

"Here are your clothes." He pointed to the left cubby where roughly two dozen outfits hung. Some were representative of her usual taste, others looked significantly more fashionable and expensive. There were several pairs of reasonable shoes on the floor of the small, open closet. 

"These are the clothes you will wear for your daughters."

He then gestured to the other alcove. It contained lingerie of all kinds and colors, some lacy, some strappy, but all very revealing. It also had a few items made of glossy latex and leather. On the floor here were white, black, and red stilettos, all with what looked to be uncomfortably high heels.

"And this is what you'll wear for me."

Daniel walked up to Daphne's limp form, withdrawing something from his pocket. Squatting down to her level, he grabbed her arm and cuffed a slim black penannular bracelet around her left wrist.

"This band will run your life in my absence. It will vibrate and chime once when you are to return to your cell. You will sleep here every night, and the band will remind you when it is time to leave Pippa and Olivia in Sunset's care. You will never know precisely when that time will be, and it will not always be the same time."

He pointed behind him at the door between the alcoves.

"The elevator to my rooms. This is where I will usually come from to visit you. The band—" he tapped the bracelet, "will twice emit a chime and a vibration thirty minutes before I arrive. I don't care if you're playing with your children or if you're eating or if you're asleep. You will be in this cell and will have selected something appropriate from the second closet. You _will_ be presentable by the time I'm here. I've given you just the smallest taste of what you can expect if you fail to be prepared for me. If you've been confined to your room for an extended length of time, you may expect one of my armatures to come down on occasion to bring you food or exchange your laundry."

He stood and walked to the heavy door that led to the basement, unlocking it with a gesture, the light bars shifting to green once again. He then moved to the door opposite and opened it with another wave. Striding into the corridor beyond, he stopped and turned.

"Oh, and Daphne," he commanded. "You are never to allow Pippa or Olivia to see this place or even know it exists. All they're to know is that you live upstairs with me. You're dreadfully sorry that you must spend so much time away from them, but you need to assist me in confronting your ex-husband's sinister plans. I'll come down to visit you most days. Provided you perform satisfactorily, at the conclusion of our amusement the door will unlock and you'll be free to spend whatever remains of the day with your girls.

"You'd best clean yourself up and return to your children, pet. We'll see each other again very soon."

With that, he bolted the door and left her sitting in the aftermath of her brutal desecration. In the still and absolute quiet, her heartbeat quickened, the frenetic drumbeat pulse dominating the silence of the cell. As a terrible pressure peaked, Daphne screamed at the top of her lungs, more loudly and intensely than she had ever before. Then she buried her head in the mattress and cried for what seemed an eternity.

* * *

Daphne eventually quieted. Her well of emotion had been finally exhausted and a cool numbness perfused her. As a utilitarian part of her contemplated getting up and repairing her makeup so she could once again see her daughters, she heard someone speak.

_That wasn't _so_ bad._

She jerked her head around, but the speech didn't seem to originate from anywhere in the room. The voice, however, was intimately recognizable. It was hers. And it didn't sound like a recording but was instead deeper, more resonant. She _felt it_ , as if she were hearing herself speak aloud. But she hadn't spoken. Had she?

_I can keep doing this. For Olivia. For Pippa, I can do this._

The audible sensations seemed completely distinct from Daphne's other thoughts. Her head swam as she struggled to comprehend the new phenomenon.

_After all, it doesn't matter what happens to me. If Daniel needs me to be a sex object, I'll be a sex object. The girls are all that matters._

It wasn't as if Daphne disagreed with what she — apparently — was thinking. She'd just never before experienced her thoughts like this. Already feeling profoundly resigned by dint of her sudden and savage violation, Daphne shook her head and swiftly came to the obvious conclusion: she'd been broken and was simply going mad. Still, she found little reason not to listen to herself.

_I can become good at this. I can become so good at it that Daniel will never even think of touching my girls._

Madness or no, the sentiment seemed true enough. Daphne had always been successful at whatever she'd put her mind to. She'd never dreamed that she would have to put her mind to becoming a whore, but that was just the terrible position in which she found herself. 

Still dazed from her violent encounter, she looked down at the bracelet on her wrist.

_I guess it's not hideous._

The band was thin and black and shaped like cord, but was made of some sort of stiff, glossy polymer and engraved with an intricate spiral pattern. Not her usual style of jewelry, but agreeable enough.

Daphne looked around the small cell once again. Her eyes were drawn to the wardrobe of hanging lingerie.

_I wonder what he wants me to look like._

Daphne was indeed curious in a perverse, macabre way. She climbed tentatively to her feet and crossed to the alcove, trying her best not to limp with the brutal aching that radiated from between her legs.

She reached the closet and began perusing the skimpy underwear. There were more outfits here than in the closet of regular clothes. She pulled a hanger off the rack at random. On it hung a white satin shelf bra that would clearly only serve to push her breasts up and display her nipples. It looked like lingerie for a wedding night. Paired with the revealing top was a garter belt, sheer stockings, and panties with a long lace-lined slit in the crotch.

_Well that will certainly make things more convenient._

Her new voice had a sense of bleak sarcasm that Daphne hadn't displayed since the darkest days of her marriage. She continued through the items. Represented were delicates of every imaginable type. Brassieres; basques; corsets of silk, satin, and leather; gossamer nighties; fishnet tops and thigh-highs; and even a full skin-tight latex bodysuit. 

Having thoroughly satisfied her grim interest, Daphne was about to move to the meager shower when she spotted a rectangular series of seams in the concrete below the alcove full of lingerie. Cocking her head, she crouched to inspect it. She ran her fingers along the lines and then pushed on the rectangle. It sunk slightly into the wall and then smoothly extended out with a series of clicks. A set of several stair-step drawers.

She gasped at the contents. Inside, situated in individual felt-lined pockets, were a vast array of sexual implements. There were dildos of all sizes and materials, anal plugs, vibrators, and a panoply of bondage and disciplinary instruments. Cuffs, collars, gags, and clamps, as well as whips and crops, canes, paddles, and long, silky coils of rope.

Daphne was certain that this time she did speak aloud, "Oh, god."

* * *


	3. "Deserving"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa's affinity for Sunset grows through small crises. Daphne spends some time with her children in their new lives and experiences both the best and the worst of what Daniel has to offer her.

##### Pippa - Daphne

* * *

Pippa Fisher sat cross-legged on the leather couch and watched Sunset work. Her mom must have prepared for all sorts of contingencies, because immediately following the delicious late meal, Sunset had presented Olivia with a beautiful violin — exquisitely crafted from carbon fiber, apparently — and asked the younger Fisher to show her how well she played. Pippa didn't really know how well-developed Olivia's proficiency was. In fact, Pippa knew little about music at all and had never actually witnessed one of her sister's lessons. The idea had never interested her before.

Now she relaxed back into the supple leather, enraptured as Olivia sawed away, extracting reasonably coherent melodies from the pretty black instrument. But it was neither the musician nor the music that held her attention so completely. It was the teacher.

From the moment she'd laid eyes on Sunset, Pippa had be unable to think of anything else. Just the sight of the redhead had wildly captured her imagination. Her elegance spoke to something deep inside her. Her classiness stirred her soul. Her beauty made her giddy. And Sunset's gaze made her profoundly uncomfortable. Pippa wanted nothing more than to bask in her presence and go wholly unnoticed. So far, she'd been wonderfully successful at the former. The latter was proving more difficult. 

Loathe to lavish attention on only one of the Fisher daughters, Sunset had repeatedly tried to goad Pippa into conversation. Each time, a stubborn lump in her throat had stifled her words and produced nothing more than a few awkward mumbles and averted gazes. Now that Sunset was focused on Olivia, nodding approvingly and offering the odd observation or clarifying some minutia of technique, Pippa was becoming more comfortable. She sat back, tolerating the halting refrains and gorging herself on the redhead's addictive beauty and her sweet, melodic voice. Occasionally, laughter seemed to just burst from Sunshine. It was mirth and mischief and genuineness all rolled into a single, wonderful sound. It was so compelling that every time she heard it, Pippa felt she would simply melt.

The light pouring from the strange artificial windows was fading from the deep amber of late summer twilight to the silver of moonlight. Sunset found a stopping place for her new protégé and bid the sisters move to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Pippa hustled to stay ahead and well away from the notice of the redhead. She felt an almost desperate urge to avoid scrutiny from the object of her fresh obsession. And yet, just the thought of Sunset's proximity saw Pippa standing in front of the bathroom mirror, motionless and wistful.

Olivia took advantage of her older sister's distraction to muscle her way past and brush her teeth at the single sink in the shared room. She finished quickly and strode purposefully off to bed, calling for Sunset to perhaps read her a bedtime story. Pippa took longer than usual to brush her own teeth, standing in front of the mirror and staring past herself into the middle distance where the afterglow of Sunset's presence still seemed to waft. She seriously considered asking for a story herself, weighing the thought of having the exquisite redhead all to herself against the sheer, bloody embarrassment of making such a childish request of such a mature and refined woman.

Pippa shook herself from the reverie and opened the mirror cabinet to complete her final step before bedtime. A twinge of alarm shot through her as she stared at the empty shelves. Her hormone capsules weren't there. She searched the counter and then the drawers, growing increasingly agitated. Where were they? Her mother would have ensured that her therapy wouldn't be interrupted, wouldn't she? Pippa couldn't ask her, since she hadn't yet returned from her walkabout with Daniel.

Pippa began to look around in panic. Her breathing quickened as she exhausted the potential locations in the bathroom and darted to her bedroom. She looked on her dresser and in the drawers, not noticing that Sunset had entered the room and was looking at her, concerned. 

"What's wrong, Phillipa?" the redhead asked.

So distraught was Pippa that she didn't even remember to be excruciatingly awkward with the gorgeous redhead. 

"My pills! My pills! I can't find them!" she explained frenziedly.

"Okay, calm down. Calm down, Phillipa. We'll find them. I'll help you look."

Sunset began to assist the girl in a search of the room that seemed on the verge of becoming a ransack. She then strode out, presumably to look elsewhere.

Pippa's hysteria was reaching a fever pitch and she held her hands to her face, her breathing becoming uncontrollable. She had to have her pills. She hadn't been without for years now and the idea of being deprived of them shook her to her core. She hadn't realized the degree to which those pills stabilized her. Losing them meant losing hold of her identity. Just as the despair was about to completely overcome her, Sunset reappeared in the doorway holding a small white cardboard box.

"I found them! They were hiding on the kitchen counter. They're right here, Phillipa."

She ran up and snatched the box from the redhead, frantically reading the label. The writing and pharmacy logo were unfamiliar but the name and dosage were correct. Pippa clutched the box to her chest. Relief flooded her. She flopped down on the edge of her bed, heart still racing, belated tears of anxiety now starting to flow.

Sunset walked over and sat next to her. She embraced the girl from the side and rubbed her shoulders.

"There, now. It's okay. You're okay."

A few sobs escaped from her and she gripped the box tightly in her lap. Sunset held her while she came down from her episode.

"I'll go get you some water, okay?" she said. 

Pippa wiped at her eyes, extracted a pill sheet from the box, and popped one of the familiar capsules out and into her palm.

Sunset returned and offered her a glass. Pippa placed the pill on her tongue and washed it down with a gulp of the cool water. Sunset took the box and the glass from her, set them gently on her dresser, and sat back down next to her on the bed.

"Feel better?" she asked.

Pippa nodded slowly, staring down at her carpet.

"I'm so glad," Sunset smiled at her.

Pippa felt the awkwardness and embarrassment start to creep in once again.

"I'm sorry I got so worked up," she murmured.

"It's fine, Phillipa. It's perfectly understandable. I know your pills are very important to you," the redhead said.

Pippa demurely looked up at Sunset.

"You know why I take them?"

Sunset nodded. "Yes. I can see why you were so worried."

Pippa stared back at the carpet and sniffled, clenching her hands in her lap until her fingertips turned white. The close presence of the perfect woman stirred a burning sensation in her chest. 

"I wish you didn't. I wish you didn't know that I'm not a real girl."

Sunset gasped and jumped up off the bed, spinning round and kneeling in front on her.

"No, Philippa! You absolutely must not think that!" she exclaimed, softly lifting Pippa's chin to meet her gaze. "You're just as much a woman as I am."

"My dad didn't think so." A fresh sob escaped her. "He never stopped calling me Phillip. He never stopped trying to get me to do things as his son. Not even when it hurt me to try."

"Then he was a fool," Sunset stated flatly.

Pippa felt small a surge of relief at Sunset's firm support and a thin grin crept on to her face.

"You might not feel it sometimes, sweetie, but you're very lucky to have found yourself. It's a brave thing you're doing. Can I ask how long you've been taking your pills?"

"Five years," Pippa said. "I was so miserable as a boy, Sunset. I was so angry." Pippa felt a powerful twinge of something as she said the redhead's name aloud. She found herself crying again as stale emotions erupted through more fresh tears. "I hated myself _so much_. And I hated everyone around me for how they saw me."

Sunset moved back to the bed and held her again. Pippa didn't know whether to throw her arms around the beautiful woman back or curl into a ball on the bed. Her body settled on a slight cringe, a not-so-happy median. Sunset laid her chin atop Pippa's head.

"Well you have people now who love you as you truly are."

In the back of her mind, Pippa wondered if Sunset would become one of those people.

"Mom didn't understand for awhile," Pippa murmured through slightly ragged breaths. "She asked so many times, so many different ways if I was sure how I felt. I'd never been so sure of anything in my life!" Her cries intensified once more, "Her and dad started fighting about it and then never stopped. I made my dad leave us, Sunset!"

The redhead hugged her tighter. "No you didn't, Phillipa. You aren't responsible for your parents' failures. If they couldn't see you for who you are, that's their fault. That's _all_ their fault. You never felt right as a boy, did you?"

Pippa shook her head staunchly, lips stretched into an ugly pout, her clenching eyelids flushing more tears into the rivers that ran down her checks.

Sunset spoke softly but firmly, "Then it sounds to me like you've always been a girl. I'm sorry your father let his desire for a son lead him to forsake his wonderful eldest daughter. I'm sorry he let that foolish urge tear your family apart. And I'm sorry it took your mother so long to realize who you really are. But you're going to grow to become a beautiful woman, Phillipa. And I'm going to help you in any way I can."

Sunset's affirmation felt like waves of warmth washing over Pippa. Emotion overcame her and she grabbed Sunset and instinctively buried her face in the woman's chest, more tears — these of relief and joy — stained the redhead's silk blouse. Sunset clutched her tightly and held her cheek to Pippa's head, stroking her hair and gently shushing her. 

Eventually Pippa stilled. She wished Sunset could hold her forever, but a rising sense of self-consciousness bid her to let go of the beautiful redhead first. Other concerns started creeping in.

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, "Where is mom? She's been gone for forever. She should have told us where my pills were."

"I'm not—"

Sunset paused mid-sentence and did something odd. She looked away for a moment as if someone had called to her. Then she made the slightest of frowns, a crack in her otherwise flawless facade.

Her radiant smile quickly returned and she fixed Pippa with an apologetic look. "Your mom is staying with Daniel in his rooms upstairs. She might not be around so much now she knows you and Olivia are safe. She and Daniel have a lot of work. I think they would also like to do some catching up."

Pippa felt a pang of jealousy. Was her mom in a relationship with the strange man? Was she choosing him over her and Olivia?

"In the meantime, I'll be staying in the master bedroom."

Pippa's eyes went wide and her butterflies came fluttering back with a vengeance at the thought of Sunset sleeping right next door.

Sunset stood and moved to the light switch. "Think you can lay down and get some rest?" 

Pippa nodded and crawled under the covers. A rush of confidence overcame her and pushed her to make a request, "Sunset? Will you call me Pippa?"

Sunset's incredible smile broadened. "Of course I will, Pippa." 

Pippa's heart soared.

"Good night. Remember that I'm just down the hall."

Pippa surely wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

* * *

Her bracelet vibrated twice and sounded a happy chime while Daphne was in the midst of a restless state of semi-sleep. The thin mattress and the slab beneath wouldn't let her forget she was sleeping in a prison cell. The chamber was bathed in the soft red light that indicated she was locked inside. The only other source of illumination was a soft, subtle glow from inside the lingerie wardrobe. 

The memory of Daniel's vicious strike to her face motivated her to get up. She crossed to her new collection of seductive wear and picked something that looked the least complicated to don. Stripping down and throwing her clothes into a corner, she pulled a sheer black brassiere from the hanger and clasped it in front, then twisted it round and tucked her arms into the straps. Then she pulled on the matching black thong panties and thigh highs, stepped into a pair of precarious black stilettos, and crossed to the mirror to look at herself. 

_I look pretty good,_ came her voice once again. She was almost to the point where the schizophrenic speech didn't startle her any more. _Daniel will be pleased. I hope he'll be pleased._

Daphne raised her hands to her chest. They were on the large side, but she was satisfied with her breasts. Her band and cup sizes had, of course, fluctuated with her weight and pregnancies over the years, but she'd always found some measure of confidence that they had maintained a shape she found attractive and had a pleasant sag that seemed to accentuate her maturity. She turned sideways and ran her hands down to her waist. She had a few folds of flesh on her sides and a small, protruding tummy. Exposed ribs and washboard abs weren't really an option for a working woman who'd birthed two children and had neither the time to devote to hours of daily exercise nor the funds to partake in expensive cosmetic therapies. The tall shoes forced her to adopt a very specific posture. Her buttocks were thrust out seductively and her back was arched.

This bra didn't actually do anything to conceal her breasts. If anything, the sheer fabric really only served to accentuate her areolae and nipples. The slightly undersized cups, while not the most comfortable, created a rather sensual profile of cleavage. Other than that, Daphne was surprised at how well it fit. It was yet another aspect of her about which Daniel seemed to be unusually knowledgeable.

As she turned in front of the mirror, Daphne was dismayed at even the small pleasure she was taking in how alluring she looked wearing the lingerie Daniel had forced on her. Before her fitful sleep, she'd showered and reapplied her ruined makeup, but hadn't been able summon the wherewithal to actually go back upstairs. As she wrestled with the thought of confronting her daughters after being the victim of such a humiliating violation, the lights around her cell door had gone red. She'd lost her chance for the day.

The band sounded its chime again, this time seemingly more insistent, more urgent. She went to the center of her small room and reluctantly struck what she thought was an erotic pose, though she simply couldn't bring herself to smile. Moments later she heard a soft whooshing from behind the door to the elevator corridor and steady footsteps approaching. Her heartbeat quickened as the door beeped and swung away. 

_Just keep him happy. Keep him interested._

Daniel wore another bespoke waistcoat and dress shirt and yet another tailored smile. 

"Look at you, pet! You're learning so quickly!" he exclaimed. 

_Yes!_ came the voice. The small surge of perverse elation was quickly trampled by dismay at even the slightest twinge of pride in her own subjugation.

She flinched slightly as he stepped up and whispered into her ear, "Still, I prefer my pets not pretend they're people." 

He put his hands on her shoulders and pressured her to her knees. As she sat back on the cold, uncomfortable concrete, her gaze landed forebodingly on his crotch. 

Daniel stroked his chin. "I think you deserve a reward, pet. Something special."

Daphne's mind raced as to what he meant by that. It certainly didn't mean he was going to release her for the day. What little she knew of him so far told her she wasn't going to make it through today without him using her body in some way. Unconsciously, her eyes darted to the concealed drawer of sexual devices. Swift though it was, he'd obviously clocked her glance. 

He gave a gasp of mock surprise, "Has my pet already found her toys?"

She clenched her eyes closed in regret and her heart sank as he crossed to the closet and opened the drawers beneath. There was precious little in those drawers that would cause her anything but suffering.

He stooped to grab an implement. "I think you've earned some 'you time' for being such a good girl."

When he came back up holding a long, thick flanged dildo, her heart sank a little more. She'd never enjoyed anal sex. It always hurt. And, in direct contravention of Daniel's proclivities, even mild pain hadn't ever been a turn on for her. And regardless, it was dirty. But at least he held a bottle of lube in his other hand.

He pointed at the meager mattress. "On your stomach, pet." 

_Do it. Don't give him an excuse to hit me again._

She didn't hesitate to take her position. Her body tensed as he stepped up to her. "I don't suppose you've prepared your ass for me," he remarked.

_Whoops._

"Oh, well. You're still learning the ropes, pet. You'll just have a bit of a mess to clean up when we're done."

The fabric of her thong was pulled aside and Daphne felt a stream of cold liquid run down the cleft of her buttocks and over her anus. A light pressure at her rear entrance quickly followed. She clenched her eyes shut, bracing for a shock of pain as he penetrated her. Instead, the pressure just gently built. She could feel more and more liquid pouring on and around the dildo as it ever so gradually infiltrated her. It became an extended, reactive process. As her breathing quickened or her body stiffened, the progress of the artificial phallus slowed and more lube was applied. But there wasn't any pain, and she felt a slight stirring as her back passage ever so gradually yielded to the invader. When the flange passed her entrance, she moaned despite herself.

_Oh, god. That's actually not too bad._

"I think she likes it," he chided.

He began to slowly thrust the instrument in and out, pouring yet more lubricant on it. Shame sprouted as the viscous liquid ran down her labia and mingled with juices that betrayed her unwilling arousal.

He murmured, "I think she _really_ likes it."

As if to confirm his taunt, she reflexively moaned again. Louder, this time. Her breath started to quicken, and not because she was in pain.

_Ugh. He's not wrong._

The oscillating feeling of fullness permeated Daphne's lower body. Lightning jolts of bliss ran from the nexus in her rear to all the other pleasure centers in her body. The pace of the penetration steadily built and her pleasure built relentlessly along with it. She gasped, her arousal mounting further as she felt his fingers begin to circle her clitoris. Shame perfused her as she began to lose control. Her moans became instinctual. Animal. She gripped the mattress and bit her lip, trying to stifle the lewd sounds. That didn't work.

_Oh, fuck!_

"She's going to pop!"

The stimulation was just too much. She'd done everything she could to hold it back but that had only made matters worse. Daniel thrust the dildo deep into her and furiously rubbed her clitoris. A dam broke inside. Her scream once again filled the room, though for a wholly different reason than last time.

Her groans and panting now echoed around the cell, accompanying her decline from orgasm. A wet plop sounded and a deviant grunt tore itself from her chest as Daniel removed the dildo from her rectum. Just as Daphne thought she could crawl up onto the meager mattress and sleep for hours, she heard his zipper.

"Now it's my turn, pet."

A new pressure commenced, this one driven by the presence of Daniel's manhood. His member was thick and hot and, in comparison to the cold artificiality of the dildo, it felt perversely organic. He caught Daphne's arousal on the downslope and launched it upwards once again. Already loosened by the previous penetration, the process of taking him whole didn't take nearly as long. The obscene fullness was so much more intense this time. Yet more lubrication poured onto and into her red, puckered opening until she felt like her whole lower body was bathed in it. She felt his torso touch her lower back as he bent and stimulated her clitoris once again. 

Her furious chagrin drove her to try to suppress her pleasure. She was desperate not to orgasm with him inside of her. It would be too much for her, too great a defeat. But a realization steadily dawned that the outcome of this battle was very much foregone. 

_I should just let go. Why not? I'm working so hard for my children. Don't I deserve this?_

The stimulation flourished yet again. A numb, all-enveloping helplessness buoyed her as the humiliation now served only to drive her depraved arousal to new heights. Any hope of outlasting Daniel and preserving her dignity vanished as climax suddenly overcame her. She couldn't hear her own screams this time. Her awareness of the cell ebbed away as pleasure flooded her experience and drowned out all other thought and sensation. The euphoria extended, freshly reverberating as a part of her recognized that Daniel was still mid-onslaught. She didn't really perceive him finish inside her. 

By the time her mind fully returned her to the reality of the cell, she was again slumped down against the cool concrete slab. Daniel stood in the corner, using her discarded shirt to clean her effluent from his manhood.

"You went away for a little while there, pet," he said with a grin.

Face blank and chest heaving, Daphne didn't reply.

He strode up to her limp form, grabbed the back of her head, and kissed her forehead.

"See?" he murmured. "It's not all bad."

As he departed, the room's lighting shifted from forbidding red to inviting green.

_It's not _all_ bad._

* * *

Daphne was slow to make it up the stairs. She wasn't sore so much as just weak. Daniel's use of her anally seemed to have sucked all the strength from her lower body. Eventually she reached the basement door, pausing as she reached for the knob, which beeped and clicked as she touched it.

_Am I even ready to see my kids? Do I want them to see how satisfied I am after having happily surrendered to violation of my most intimate places?_

She shook her head to clear the thoughts and opened the door. After a brief spell of disorientation, the nature of the light pouring through the open doorways to the girls' bedrooms told her it was early afternoon. She wondered if Daniel would ever give her some way of telling the time from inside her cell. 

The sound of coupled string instruments lilted from the living room and she walked towards it. As she peeked around the corner from the dining room, Daphne felt elation at the sight of her girls. Pippa lay back on the couch absorbed in a paper book. Olivia sat in one of the dining room chairs with a music stand in front of her, playing what appeared to be an extremely expensive violin. She looked cute with her tongue stuck through her teeth as she focused on a tricky passage.

Seated across from her youngest was Sunset. The striking redhead was wearing an airy yellow sundress and staring intently across at Olivia, accompanying her on a matching cello. Sunset caught sight of the voyeur and paused her playing with a welcoming smile.

"Hello, Daphne," she said warmly.

Olivia's head snapped around and she jumped up from her seat and ran to her mother. 

"Mom!" she yelled excitedly. She hugged Daphne tightly, bow in one hand, splendid instrument in the other. Pippa slowly got up off the couch and strolled over.

As Olivia disengaged, Pippa came in for a hug as well, though not one so enthusiastic as her sister's.

"Did you hear me, mom?" asked Olivia, clearly proud of herself.

"Yes, sweetie. You were playing beautifully."

"Sunset is such a good teacher, mom. She's so much better than Mrs Dennings."

Daphne suppressed a frown. Jillian Dennings was a good friend of hers and she'd given Daphne a steep discount on Olivia's lessons.

Sunset offered a polite nod to Daphne as she strolled past, heading for the kitchen.

"Are you hungry, Daphne? Let me make you some lunch."

Daphne was famished. She hadn't eaten in some time. Daniel's robots had never arrived with food for her.

"Yes. Thank you, Sunset." The name stuck in Daphne's throat a little. She wasn't sure why. She turned to Pippa. "What are you reading, Pippa?"

She held up the book, keeping her finger stuck inside to save her place. 'Poetry of the Romantic Era'.

"Sunset has me reading Keats," Pippa murmured with a smile. "His stuff's pretty great. It's really dreamy."

What little Daphne knew about poetry she'd learned in college and had mostly forgotten. She remembered that Pippa had an expressed a passing interest. She cocked her head as she regarded her eldest. She was wearing a sundress of her own in blue and white. Though they didn't match, the style was broadly similar to the one the Sunset wore. Pippa so rarely wore dresses and, though she looked lovely in it, the sight of her clad in so distinctly feminine a fashion seemed odd to her. 

As Pippa peered past her mother to look towards where Sunset was working in the kitchen, Daphne noticed something in her straight curtain of raven hair. She reached out and gently grasped a lone, elaborate braid into which artfully pruned fragments of Daniel's white-and-blue rose had been woven.

Pippa grabbed the braid and ran it through her fingers. "Do you like it?" she asked demurely.

Again, Daphne had never seen her eldest show an interest in decorating her hair. She smiled and said, "It looks lovely, Pippa."

Pippa brightened. "Sunset did it for me."

This time, Daphne couldn't conceal her slight pout.

"You don't like it," Pippa said flatly, obviously concerned with her mother's opinion.

Daphne scrambled to recover, "Of course I do, dear. I'm just a little hungry. That's all. Let's go eat."

She walked with her two daughters at her side to the kitchen stools. Sunset was walking back and forth, absorbed in preparing the food. Olivia chatted about her quick progress on the violin and Pippa sat quietly, chin resting in her hand, staring down at her book of poetry lying on the counter. 

Daphne watched Sunset move deliberately about the kitchen. She had her focus expertly split between the various different tasks and methodically coordinated preparation of the dish's assorted ingredients. Crêpes sizzled softly in a pan next to a small pot of bubbling béchamel. With impressive economy of movement, Sunset finished and folded the savory pancakes, stuffing them with Swiss cheese and crab meat and fresh spinach. She placed the plates in front of the three women and drizzled them with the white sauce. They smelled wonderful.

"This looks terrific. Thank you, Sunset," she said, tucking in to the delicious dish and letting the taste assuage her envy at how efficiently the redhead utilized what was essentially Daphne's kitchen. She never cooked meals like this. She wasn't able.

Sunset beamed her perfect smile, "You're very welcome."

As Sunset cleaned up, the three ate in relative silence. When they were finished, Olivia spoke up. "I need to finish my lesson," she insisted.

Sunset looked to Daphne for permission.

"Of course, sweetie," Daphne said.

The four moved back to the living room, with Daphne sitting on the couch and Olivia and Sunset retaking their places in the chairs. Pippa wandered back over and laid down on the couch, resting her head in her mother's lap. 

The pair resumed their playing. Olivia bowed with some uncertainty but nonetheless seemed well-guided by Sunset's flawless accompaniment on the cello. Daphne closed her eyes and reclined her head, gently fingering Pippa's braid as she listened to the dulcet tones of paired strings.

* * *

Daphne awoke with a start. Late evening light pouring through the large casement windows in the living room. She had fallen asleep on the couch. A small jolt of alarm shot through her as she realized that she was alone in the living room, her daughters nowhere to be seen.

She stood, a weakness in her knees reminding her of her sordid activities earlier in the day. Nobody in the kitchen or dining room. She walked down the hallway and spotted Olivia laying in her bed, watching some video on a handtab. Her daughter noticed her loitering in the doorway.

"Hi, mom. Sunset has me watching language lessons. She says that she wants me to be able have conversations with her in Italian. How come you never had me learn a foreign language?"

Daphne was preparing to offer an excuse when she heard the front door open. She left Olivia to her lesson and strolled back to the living room. Standing there, breathing heavily and covered in a sheen of sweat were Sunset and Pippa. Her daughter was stooped, hands on her knees. Both of them were dressed in athletic wear of matching colors. Sunset wore a tight sports bra that showed off her toned midriff.

Daphne frowned slightly and called out, "Are you okay, Pippa?"

Her eldest looked up and acknowledged her mother with an uncharacteristically bright smile. "Oh, yeah, mom. Sunset and me just had a great run. And I thought I had endurance." Pippa limply gestured to the redhead, "She can just go and go."

Sunset had her hair up in a bun and was cooling down with some deep stretches. Even after heavy exercise, her appearance was still immaculate. If anything, the layer of sweat made her look all the more inviting. She didn't appear to be too winded, though.

Daphne was curious. "Where did you run?"

Pippa replied through heavy breaths, "Oh. Sunset knows some routes through the tunnels. It's strange running underground, but Daniel's place is so huge. You can really get lost down here."

Sunset addressed Phillipa, "You should hydrate and have a cool shower, Pippa."

The girl smiled and nodded, wandering past Daphne into the kitchen.

Daphne approached the redhead and spoke, her voice low and laced with concern, "Does Daniel know you're running through the tunnels?"

Sunset nodded and replied quietly, "Yes. You run into his armatures watching you on occasion." Her voice lowered even more, "And there are other things watching down here, too."

Daphne's unease persisted, "Is it safe?"

"So long as the girls never go out without me. So long as they never try to leave this level of the complex, they'll be safe. I've told them as much."

Daphne nodded slowly.

The redhead sighed and spoke again in a normal voice, "Well. I was about to make dinner. Would you like—"

Sunset was interrupted off by a single chime from Daphne's bracelet. She looked at Daphne curiously. She apparently didn't know the details of Daphne and Daniel's 'arrangement'. It was probably better for the girls, that way.

"What's—" she began.

Daphne, raised her palm and cut the redhead off. She sighed and, without another word to Sunset, turned to make her way back to the basement. She passed Olivia's room and said her premature goodnight.

"You're leaving already?" she asked plaintively.

"I'm afraid so, sweetie. Daniel and I, we—" her voice caught in her throat. "We have work to do."

Her daughter jumped up from her bed and walked over to embrace her.

"I wish you would spend more time with us," she said sadly.

Daphne held back tears and clutched Olivia's head to her stomach, stroking her strawberry blonde hair. "I know, sweetie. I'll try my best to get some more time."

She sniffled and released her daughter. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

With that, Daphne walked back down the hallway, passing the bathroom where the muffled sound of running water told her Pippa was already in the shower. She frowned as she realized she wouldn't get a chance to bid her eldest goodnight. Profound sadness and rising frustration followed Daphne as she unlocked the door to the basement and descended back down to her prison cell.

* * *

Raging indignation percolated inside Daphne. Distraught after being forced to leave a pleasant evening with her daughters, she paced back and forth in front of her pathetic excuse for a bed. Deep red light saturated the cramped space and only drove home the sensation of dread confinement. Her thoughts raged, a confused mess of righteous anger, agitated confusion, and self-acrimony. What gave Daniel the right to do this to her? How could he possibly live with himself when he possessed and controlled and used other humans purely for his own gratification?

_I should calm down._

"NO!" Daphne shrieked. She didn't want to calm down. And she didn't want to pay attention to the deranged voice that was now constantly speaking to her.

Intruding at the worst possible moment, her bracelet vibrated and chimed twice. Daphne's eyes went wide and she froze, mid-tantrum. Fear and resentment gripped her simultaneously and tore at her until she felt she would simply split in two. 

She made the decision without realizing it. Her emotions wouldn't subside from their roiling boil. She couldn't bring herself to acquiesce to him. Not this time. Not again. She tore the band from her wrist and threw it violently against the wall.

_I can't do this. He'll kill me! He'll hurt the girls!_

She slammed her palms to her ears and screamed, thrashing violently, "Shut the fuck up! Shut up!" 

She lost track of time as she roared and raged and furiously rejected her new life. So insensate was Daphne that she failed to hear the repeated chime from the band that now lay in the corner of her cell.

When the door opened, her temper evaporated. Just the sight of her captor caused paralyzing memories of fear-filled pain and violation to flood her mind. His face was contorted in fury and outrage. Her stomach plunged as she stared at his dark, terrible countenance. A torrent of gruesome consequences saturated her imagination in an instant. Daphne's eyes went wide and unblinking and her mouth hung agape. She stood in the center of her cell, crippled. She was missing her bracelet and she was still wearing the casual clothes she had been when she'd come down from the house.

_Oh, god. No. I'm dead. He's going to hurt my babies._

She crumpled to her knees and covered her face, instinctively trying to protect herself from the savage pummelling she was certain was imminent. She cringed and began to shiver violently as he approached her huddled form. She yelped as she felt his hand grasp her arm. But instead of a violent jerk, Daniel pulled her gently to her feet. Daphne haltingly lowered her hands and peered out through a veil of terrified tears at him.

Gone was the dreadful visage. Instead she saw a look of sorrow. Glazing his blue eyes were tears of his own. Bewilderment flooded her as he embraced her and held her face to his shoulder. She began to whimper.

"Oh, pet," he crooned. "You are so confused, aren't you?"

Her soft cries devolved into loud sobs and she gripped his shirt in helpless anguish and baffled relief.

"It's okay. You're okay, pet," he whispered, stroking her hair gently.

_He's not going to kill me!_

The two stood for long, speechless moments, Daniel slowly swaying with his pet clutched in his arms as she cried. Eventually, she stopped her sobbing and he led her to her bed and sat her down.

He crouched in front of her, but she couldn't meet his gaze. He reached out and caressed her cheek, raising her chin to peer affectionately into her moist brown eyes.

 _He loves me!_ exclaimed the mad voice. Daphne didn't think she believed that, but she also didn't possess the wherewithal to refute it.

"We need to resolve this situation, pet. You understood my instructions and deliberately disobeyed them."

Despite herself, Daphne pouted in shame.

 _He didn't even ask for much!_

The fact that the required preparation would have invariably been followed by some outrageous act of exploitation did not register with her.

_It was so simple. So easy. And I couldn't do it. Not even to protect my children!_

"You need to be disciplined, Daphne."

Her quiet sobs returned and she mumbled halfhearted pleas for mercy.

"I know you have such difficulty realizing it, but the pain will be good for you. It will help to settle this mad conflict inside you, pet."

He crossed to the drawers, crouched, and retrieved something. When he turned back, Daphne saw that he held a long cane. It was thick black wood and had the same elaborate spiral engraving as her bracelet twisting in bright gold down its hilt.

"This is the instrument in our arsenal with the most potential to inflict pain. There will be no teasing, no titillation for you today."

She cringed again as Daniel walked back to her. He helped her slowly to her feet and began to undress her, first gingerly unbuttoning her blouse and then pulling down her pants and panties. He unclasped her bra and she obligingly shrugged it off. Daniel turned her around and bent her over the bed. 

"You must withstand these strokes without moving, Daphne. You mustn't try to impede my administration of them. It will not be easy for you," he addressed her with his hand laid firmly on her naked lower back.

He spoke with gentle authority. The words didn't strike terror into her, but she still felt them at her very core. They carried the sense of inevitability. Necessity.

_Didn't I cause this?_

"You may give voice to your pain, but do not remove your hands from the bed. Do not fall to the floor. Do you understand me, pet?"

_Yes._

"Yes." Daphne was stunned by the lack of hesitation and the quiet resolve in her voice. Tears still fell from her face, but somehow they were not out of fear for the man stood beside her. 

_Don't I deserve this?_

"I will not hold back. Take comfort in the knowledge that I do not do this because I hate you, pet. Quite the opposite. Do you understand?"

_Yes._

"Yes."

The dangerous serenity that fell over the room was broken only by Daphne's anxious breathing. She failed to control her wicked suspense, and it rolled over her like an endless burning wave. 

Daphne's mind registered the whipping of air an instant before the first blow landed. Bright, brilliant pain erupted across her backside. It was an exquisite agony of a sort she'd never felt — never even imagined — before. Some deep, prideful part of her thought she possessed the strength to forgo the humiliation of screaming. That notion shattered utterly as she reflexively wailed at the top of her lungs. It surged from her as the pangs from the stroke reverberated.

The voice was quiet but deliberate. _I deserve this..._

A second blow landed near to the first and the torment redoubled. Her ears rang from the cacophony of her own bellowing. Still, some resolute part of her kept her knees from buckling and her clenched hands from leaving the bed. Daniel paused just long enough for the pain to register fully then ever so slightly subside.

Louder now. _I deserve this._

A third strike, this one to her upper thighs. Her scream pitched high to low as the pain wickedly evolved. Emotional to animal. Her hands were white with strain and she felt like her fingernails would tear off in the fabric of the mattress. Her knees quivered but she didn't collapse.

_I deserve this!_

Another blow to the thighs. Vicious heat ran in waves from the lines of agony on her legs down to her toes and up to the top of her head. Her yell turned ragged and hollow. Loud, nonsense syllables spilled from lips she couldn't control. Her self-preservation demanded she plead for mercy. Beg him to end the torture. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Deep down, Daphne knew that she would pass out from the pain before she asked him to stop. But she didn't know why.

_I DESERVE THIS!_

The next strike to her thighs felt like it pounded a nail into her psyche. She screamed madly inside her mind, but the horrific pain stole her voice and no sound escaped. Her mouth hung open in shocked disbelief and a thick string of spittle dribbled down onto the bed and mingled with the pool of tears. Parts of her mind drifted wildly, some feeling loose and wobbly, as if on the verge of unconsciousness.

"Good girl. You did very well, pet."

With that confirmation that her ordeal was finished, any fragment of resolve fled Daphne's body and she collapsed and slunk to the floor. The skin where her body contacted the cool concrete sent out thin waves of succor which bounced and tangled with the agony that still radiated from the five fiery bands seared onto her body.

Daniel leant the cane against the bed slab and crouched, scooping Daphne into his arms. She was limp and unmoving. Tears flowed freely, but no sobs attended her labored breaths. He gently lifted her and set her on the bed, then crossed to the corner of the room. Her breath gradually slowed. A feeling of vast, numb fulfillment was spreading like sunshine over her shaken consciousness.

_I _am_ a good girl. I did it. And I didn't beg._

Daniel returned and laid down beside her, spooning her and delicately stroking her hair. The warmth of his body against her backside merged with the furious heat of her wounds. He tenderly grasped her wrist and fastened the bracelet around it once again. Daphne caught Daniel's hand and slowly intertwined her fingers with his. She drew their fingers to her cheek, then kissed them softly.

She felt his manhood at her entrance. He didn't thrust in, but instead rubbed her up and down her cleft. She paused, then reached down and gently guided him into her. He didn't plunge in to the hilt. He just gradually filled her and then remained. The wonderful sensation of bodily fullness only served to compliment the spiritual sensation of atonement, of attainment.

The voice was barely a whisper now, but it filled her consciousness. It was the only thing Daphne could hear.

_I deserve this._

* * *


	4. "Contact"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Daphne connect. Olivia loses patience. Daphne's deficiencies are harshly revealed. Olivia takes a risk. Daphne realizes just how little parenting she is able to do. Olivia makes a friend. Daphne asks Daniel for help.

##### Daphne - Olivia

* * *

Daphne and Daniel lay entwined on the mattress for what seemed like hours with him remaining inside of her, filling her. Daphne floated in and out of awareness. The intense, terrible stinging on her backside faded and, in its place had emerged a dull ache and — bizarrely — that most wonderful sensation of fulfillment and security.

Daniel whispered in her ear as they held each other, unmoving, telling her stories of how, in years past, he'd discovered a realm of wonderful, gifted children. How he'd guided his many children out into the wild and how they'd become princes and princesses, viceroys and knights and had changed the world forever. How, in gratitude, his children had granted him his enormous wealth, power, and authority. And how, just after he'd resolved to retire from helping his children into the world, he'd reached back into it, discovered her, and plucked her from obscurity to fulfill her destiny as his beloved pet. 

Daphne wasn't sure of the veracity of his tales. They sounded like bedtime fables, far-fetched and fantastic. But she gave serious thought to his bold claims of authority.

She whispered back to him, imagining that if she just spoke softly enough, the sheer audacity of her questions wouldn't draw his awesome ire.

"But why do you get to decide my destiny, Daniel? Why does your authority mean that I must become your pet?"

He chuckled as if she were a schoolgirl asking a question for which the answer was simple and self-evident.

"Is it not obvious? You surely must realize by now that you're not like me, Daphne. Your children are beautiful, but they aren't extraordinary. They won't change the world. 

"If you were worthy of doing as I do, of having the capacity to compete with and protect yourself from the few people who _are_ like me, you would do so. But you are not worthy, and so you cannot. You're not bad person, pet. You're just one of the many billions of little people in this world. But now you have reason to be proud. Now, pet, you _do_ have the potential to become extraordinary."

As Daphne drifted off to a dreamless sleep, she weighed the consequence of his explanation. 

* * *

Her sister had once quipped that pouting was Olivia's finest skill. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, giving her all to an impression of what she thought a patient person looked like, Olivia was doing her level best to prove her wrong. But her gaze kept disobediently darting to the corner of the living room, where her gorgeous new violin lay on its stand next to Sunset's matching cello.

Sunset seemed convinced that the Fishers need not cleave to a strict schedule of instruction. So long as they did their best to complete the requested readings or watching or practicing at some point, the girls would satisfy their educational goals. This philosophy had obviously been predicated on the idea that the sisters would have other things they'd prefer to do. Sunset hadn't anticipated that, from the moment they awoke in the mornings, both Fisher girls would be constantly jockeying for the attention of their new governess. 

Pippa, at first, had been satisfied to simply be in the same room as the redhead, which left her schedule largely free for Olivia's instruction on the violin. And after she'd been presented with her magnificent new instrument and experienced Sunset's terrific tutelage, Olivia had developed an intense craving for it. So when her increasingly bold sister had stolen the redheaded virtuoso's attention for a morning of instruction in poetry, Olivia had balked. 

"You may always take your violin into your room and practice there," Sunset had told her.

The degree to which that statement missed the point only inflamed her frustration. Olivia didn't want to just play her violin. She wanted to _learn_. With Sunset.

But — Olivia repeated to herself for the umpteenth time — she was a mature young woman. It didn't matter that watching Sunset sit in relative silence felt like such a waste of talent that she wanted to scream. And it didn't matter that Sunset seemed to enjoy reading that stupid, inscrutable poetry with her older sister just as much as she did accompanying Olivia in creating real, palpable beauty. 

They weren't even talking that much! Pippa was a naturally quiet person. Normally, that was fine. It was perfect, actually. All the more time for Olivia to talk about things that interested _her_. But seeing Sunset happily share in that pointless silence just burned her inside.

Olivia realized that she'd been restlessly tapping her fingers on the couch. She snatched her hand up and frowned. That wasn't something that patient people did. The idea that there were things she could be doing other than just waiting in frustration for Sunset to finish Pippa's lesson didn't appeal to her. If anything, the fact just made her want to do anything else even less. 

Finally, Olivia was overcome by the boredom of staring into the dining room, watching her older sister grin doe-eyed at Sunset every single time the redhead praised her for some bit of observation or laughed with her at some pleasant new turn of phrase in their readings. She huffed and flipped over on the couch, resting her chin on its back and staring out the large front window. 

Olivia had, at first, been fascinated by the scenes that unfolded out there. She'd initially marveled at the fact that, despite how real the view looked, it was all a grand illusion created just for them, to prevent them having to stare out at the blank blue wall that surrounded the house. But the shine on that particular rose had quickly faded.

She'd eventually noticed that the people and animals and cars that weren't actually outside regularly repeated their processions. And the idea that all these things just vanished from existence the moment they left her view was a little depressing. But there was precious little else to hold Olivia's attention right now, so she watched. 

There was that shaggy brown dog again, only this time leading a woman that had jogged by five minutes prior. There was the mail carrier's vehicle, apparently doing its third visit of the day to her house. Olivia wondered how much mail could possibly exist in this fake world. Just as she was about to give up on the repetitive view once again, she spotted something bizarre and wonderful.

The most beautiful woman slowly strode down the sidewalk. She had her head held high, as if dead certain that she was the single most important thing in the world. Her dazzling hair was the same shade of strawberry blonde as Olivia's, strung through with glistening strands of pearls and diamonds. Atop her head was a magnificent jewel-encrusted tiara that caught the morning sunlight and sparkled like nothing Olivia had seen before. She wore a gorgeous and elaborate white gown, puffed out with petticoats and lined with silk. A long train followed in her wake, carried by three pretty young girls, one each with bright blonde, deep red, and jet black hair.

Olivia's mouth hung agape as the procession made its way past the window. She craned her neck and shuffled to the far end of the couch, trying to keep sight of the splendid figure. She felt a little distraught when the woman walked out of view. Olivia turned back to the room, mouth open, preparing to excitedly tell Sunset and Pippa all about what she'd seen. She closed her mouth and frowned when she again caught sight of the pair sitting quietly at the dining room table. She then glanced sideways at the front door. It was far-fetched to think that the queen was actually out there. But Olivia couldn't shake the idea that it was at least _possible_.

* * *

Daphne stirred as Daniel slipped out of her and got up off her mattress. She looked at him, conflicting feelings of possession and of being possessed swimming in her mind. His manhood protruded from his briefs, semi-erect.

"You have some work to do before I depart, pet"

She slowly at up on the mattress, wincing as the pressure of sitting irritated the now-bruising marks on her bottom and thighs. She looked up him, waiting for further instruction.

"It's important for you to become well-rounded and broadly useful. How skilled are you with your mouth?"

She frowned and said nothing. Oral sex was not her favored carnal activity. She preferred to just take men into her vagina and let them do the work to satisfy themselves.

He sighed and displayed a frown of his own. "Your mouth and throat are as important as the rest of you, Daphne."

He approached her and she murmured, "Please, Daniel. I can't take you into my throat. I'll gag on it."

A dubious look crossed his face. "I will grant you a compromise, then. If you can make me come using just your hands and mouth in any fashion you choose, I'll refrain from training your throat."

Daphne looked down at the floor somberly and nodded. She reached for him, but he caught her hand.

"Best if you're on your knees, pet."

Daphne obliged and he took her place on the edge of her bed. She tentatively took him into her mouth, tasting her own juices on his head. As he progressively hardened, she worked his length with one hand and slowly massaged his testicles with the other. She tried to remember and employ techniques she'd seen displayed on the few occasions when she'd watched pornography.

She grew dismayed at her progress. He didn't soften and was secreting some thin, salty fluid, but he wasn't being very vocal. When she looked up at him, his blue eyes regarded her, impassive. Critical. She picked up her pace and tried her best to use her tongue to stimulate his head. When she attempted to take him even partway into the back of her mouth, however, she felt her gag reflex reject him. Anxiety set in as she realized she wasn't making headway.

_I need to do better. He needs more!_

She felt him start to stand and her stomach dropped. But she didn't stop and attempted to follow him, frantically — belatedly — summoning as much energy as she could.

He put his hands to her face. "I think we've given this enough time, Daphne."

She didn't give up, but he was insistent and pulled her away.

She whimpered, still grasping and stroking him with her hands, "Please, Daniel. Just give me a little longer. I can do better."

He grabbed a handful of blonde hair and spoke forcefully, "No. Hold your hands behind your back. Do not touch me. I will control your progress."

She groaned in wordless apprehension, but complied. He immediately pushed further into her mouth than she had attempted to take him. She spasmed from her hips to her head in a vicious heave reflex. Her hands came apart and clenched and unclenched instintually, but she didn't touch him. His next thrust was deeper, though, and she simply couldn't help but place her hands on his thighs in an unconscious attempt to halt his progress.

Her head jerked to the side as Daniel sighed, exasperated, and let go of her hair. Alarm shot through her as he moved to the drawer. He retrieved a pair of wide, padded wrist cuffs of matte white leather and stepped around behind her.

"Please, Daniel," she mewled quietly.

"You will need to develop much stronger self-restraint, pet," he said brusquely. "But, in the mean time..." He secured the cuffs to her wrists and clipped them together.

He gripped her head again and resumed his use of her mouth. She gagged furiously and moaned continuously, but her protests were stifled by his thick shaft. She secreted copious amount of saliva. Her abdomen already ached from all the heaving. She tasted bile and felt like she would have vomited the contents of her stomach a dozen times over, had she anything to actually spit up. But throughout, she maintained a small measure of discipline and kept her teeth well free of his manhood.

He was relentless, pausing for only the barest of moments to allow her to gasp for a few wet breaths before attacking her throat again. A few times she felt her esophagus open and reluctantly accept his member. Those were the thrusts he prolonged, sawing minutely back and forth, massaging his member with her spasming throat as she thrashed violently. Her shoulders ached tremendously from the strain of jerking her arms around while her wrists were bound together behind her back. Her scalp began to hurt as, despite her body's furious contortions, he used his firm grasp on her hair to stiffly control her head and keep her face positioned at his crotch.

He picked up his pace. Her anguished, gurgled moans and feral protests became louder as he pushed again against the back of her mouth and his member arched to enter her throat. She coughed and sputtered and wretched over and over. Her jaw ached and mixed bile and mucus dripped in streams onto her chest, mingling with the sheen of sweat that covered the whole of her body. After what seemed an eternity of repellant violation, he reached climax. He thrust with furious strength, simply pushing and pushing until her throat accepted his manhood.

He gasped his command, "Do not spit. You must swallow it all, pet." She could barely hear his words over the sound of her pounding heartbeat, but they carried the authority of god.

She felt new, hot liquid begin to spill in waves down her esophagus. Her body attempted to reject it, but there was simply nowhere else for it to go but down. Daphne began to feel faint with the extended deprivation of breath. As she felt a haze descend on her, a morbidly inquisitive part of her brain wondered if she was going to die with her mouth wrapped around him.

After he moaned and pulsed for what seemed an eternity, her mouth was blessedly evacuated and he let go of her hair. She gasped madly for air and her esophagus spasmed intensely, but she had the presence of mind to tilt her head back to prevent his seed from leaving her mouth. He stared down at her, wide-eyed, seeming wildly intent on seeing whether or not she would fulfill his wish that she consume the entirety of his emission. Even as her stomach still heaved, Daphne forced herself to swallow repeatedly until she kept it down.

"Wonderful," he said, breathy amazement tinging his voice.

_He's satisfied! He's happy!_

Daphne collapsed with a faint smile on her face, her head hitting the floor with greater force than she'd intended. Her eyes rolled up and her head swam violently as she continued to gasp, trying to renew her body with oxygen. She felt him kneel and take her head into his lap. Her breath finally caught up with her and she let out a few primal sobs from the shock. He stroked her hair affectionately as he cradled her head.

"I know that was difficult for you, pet. But you did so well. You should be very proud."

_I _am_ proud!_

Though facets of her mind screamed at her that she shouldn't be, she was. She'd survived the most difficult trial so far. And he was pleased! Though she felt a strong urge to prevent herself from repeating the ordeal.

"We will continue with this until it becomes easier for you. Until it becomes second nature."

Her heart dropped and a few pleas pleas and protests sputtered out of her mouth, incoherent and barely audible.

"Fear not, pet," he shushed. "Next time, I will bring you something to ease the process. I'll even give you choice of whether or not to use it."

Still delirious, a small part of Daphne wondered in hope and apprehension what kind of assistance Daniel would provide.

* * *

Olivia had felt oddly frustrated the moment she'd covertly left the house. It took a bit, but she eventually realized what was causing it. Despite ostensibly leaving her home, she wasn't experiencing that which she most enjoyed about being outside: the birds. Ever since she'd been very little, Olivia had loved birdsong. The chorus is what had inspired her to play music. If even the birds couldn't help but create melodies, after all, how could she?

All these stupid corridors looked the same. Olivia had tiptoed to the door and stuck outside while Pippa and Sunset were absorbed. She'd lost time since the queen had passed by, so she struck out through the large metal door that opened to the huge chamber where her house was. Curiosity in the maze of bare concrete and steel had now taken over and, despite the part of her that cautioned that the foray was ill-advised, Olivia pressed ahead, taking turns almost at random.

It seemed like there were an infinite number of these concrete hallways. They all had the same conduit and lights on the ceiling, and she only occasionally passed a sealed metal door much like the once that lead to her home. She pondered whether or not there were other homes, other families behind them. She wondered what kind of lives they might live and whether or not they felt safe or happy.

As she rounded yet another blind corner, Olivia was startled as she saw another animate thing for the first time in her heedless exploration. It was a robot, but not at all like the funny steward from the plane. This one was tall and sleek and looked much more like the ones that had ushered them into the car at the airport. Up close, it was sinister and threatening. Its thick metal body panels were painted an ominous matte black. Olivia's stomach sank as it swiveled and regarded her with its menacing red sensors.

She ducked her head and slowly started to back away.

"Sorry, mister," she said meekly.

It took a few steps towards her and then placed a hand atop something that bulged from its hip and extended the other hand, palm-out towards her.

"Halt!" it said loudly.

Olivia was definitely not about to halt. Fear coursing through her, she bolted back the way she came. Though the younger Fisher daughter wasn't striving to become the consummate athlete like Pippa was, she was still fast. Indeed, her small, still-undeveloped frame allowed her to summon impressive speed. The tiniest of grins spread across Olivia's face as she ran. She liked to race. Even more, she liked to win. And the robot that clomped along behind her seemed to have trouble taking the turns like she could. She glanced back to judge her distance from her pursuer and ran into something that felt like a brick wall, stood in the middle of the hallway. 

She held her head and winced, staring up to see another of the robots. Olivia knew from movies what a pistol looked like and this terrifying thing had one in its hand, pointed down at her face.

"Halt!" it said, in the same voice as the first.

Wide-eyed, she scrambled past the robot on her hands and knees, frantically got to her feet, and kept sprinting. She now heard two sets of feet clomping behind her. Olivia was no longer smiling. She started to shed tears of dread as she imagined how terrible it would feel to be shot. Because if those robots caught her, she surely would be. The corridors flew by. They'd long since become unfamiliar. As she made a turn and started down another long hallway at speed, Olivia spotted yet another robot emerge from the turn at the far end. Panicked, she took an immediate right. Her terror peaked as she saw that the turn she'd taken lead into a dead end. There were a set of doors at the end of this corridor, though, with a couple of buttons next to it. An elevator.

Olivia sprinted to the doors and started frantically pressing the buttons. Nothing happened. There was no sound or light. Nothing. She spun in horror as she heard the loud clomping of robots chasing her. They stalked down the corridor three abreast, all holding pistols aimed at her. Olivia fell to the ground, curling up into a ball and hiding her face behind her hands. Tears of deathly fear streamed down her face and she screamed, loudly and continuously. The robots stopped just a meter in front of her, sensors shining menacingly, weapons pointed.

Olivia heard rapid footsteps and abruptly felt arms around her body. Someone was holding her, shielding her from the terrible robots.

She heard Sunset's voice, frantic and shouting, "I've got her! She's fine! Don't shoot! She's not a threat!" 

Silence but for the soft whirring of servos.

Sunset lowered her voice and spoke with a measure of calm, clearly trying to deescalate the situation, "Don't shoot. We're okay. We're fine. Just let her go and I'll take her back to the house, immediately. She won't violate her restrictions again."

Another stretch of silence. Then Olivia heard the robots whirr and clomp back down the corridor.

The governess exhaled in relief.

"Sunset—" Olivia began, gazing up at her savior. But before she could offer any explanation, the redhead harshly shushed her.

Sunset had on her face a look of pure fury. The expression was totally foreign on her. For the short time Olivia had known her, the redhead's pleasant, welcoming smile had been everpresent. She'd been almost incessantly cheery. Now her demeanor was dreadfully inverted and it scared Olivia nearly as much as the pistol-toting robots. New tears began to flow as Sunset scooped her up — she was surprisingly strong — and began to carry her back down the unadorned corridors. Olivia latched her hands behind Sunset's neck and cried softly, burying her head in the redhead's shoulder. Neither of them spoke as they made their way back to the house.

* * *

The trudge up the basement stairs was becoming a ritual of reflection for Daphne. The transition from her life as Daniel's kept whore — she _was_ a whore, she told herself — back to the loving mother of two daughters had been jarring at first. It began as a twisted, dissonant progression back to a life she thought she'd always wanted from the deprived, depraved life she'd been compelled to live in order to maintain the integrity of the former. Now, the transformation was less unsettling each day. Deep down, Daphne feared that might be because one of her lives was usurping the other.

She entered her home once again and was immediately struck by the quiet. Her children were't rowdy per se, but she'd become used to a typical sort of tumult when she came upstairs. Generally Olivia energetically chattering away about something. Daphne wondered if perhaps Sunset had taken Pippa for another run, but then she spotted her eldest sitting at the table, reading.

Daphne walked down the hallway, noticing that Olivia's door was atypically closed. Usually, Sunset had the girls keep their doors open. Pippa looked up at her as she entered the dining room. She nodded but said nothing and she had a look of faint dismay across her face. Daphne was preparing to ask her what was wrong when she spotted Sunset in the living room. The redhead was pacing back and forth and distractedly chewing a fingernail. That sight was far more unusual than Pippa's moodiness. Every time Daphne had observed her, Sunset was either cooking for or talking to or teaching one of the girls, always with a cheery smile on her face.

She approached her children's governess, taken aback by her atypical look of concern. 

"What's wrong, Sunset? What happened?" Daphne asked.

Sunset fixed her with a look of apprehension, as if she was weighing whether and how to tell her. "I caught Olivia outside. In the tunnels. By herself."

Daphne's eyes went wide and she began to look around frantically, as if to search for Olivia in the small room.

"She's fine! She's fine, Daphne," Sunset comforted, stepping forward with her palms raised, as if to ward off the mother's furious consternation.

"She's in her room?" Daphne asked, still concerned.

"I've confined her there," confirmed the redhead. "There had to be repercussions. I've also paused her violin lessons. And her language learning."

Now that she looked, Daphne was that the black violin was indeed missing from its stand. She felt immediately sorry for her youngest. They were, all of them, trapped in this place. Sunset must understand how difficult that was. A little acting out was normal, even expected, surely!

"She loves the violin more than anything, Sunset," Daphne said.

"I'm aware," responded the redhead, flatly.

"She's been stuck here for days! Can you blame her for trying to get a small change in scenery?" Daphne was raising her voice, agitated by the punishment Sunset had doled out in her absence.

"She disobeyed me," murmured the governess, her mouth drawing into a line, resuming her anxious fingernail chewing.

"She's just a child!" shouted Daphne.

"She was almost killed!" Sunset suddenly burst out, almost unhinged. Her grey eyes were wet with tears. Daphne was taken aback. She'd never seen Sunset so upset, so unnerved. Then the true consequence of the redhead's statement hit her. Daphne's eyes went wide and she felt faint. She wobbled on her feet, the terrible notion of actually losing her youngest shaking her to her core. Sunset stepped up to her, guided her to the couch, then took a seat next to her.

"What happened?" Daphne asked again, breathless, wide-eyed, staring straight ahead.

"I made it there in time. Barely." Sunset explained quietly. "Three armatures had her cornered. She was trying to use an elevator." Sunset's voice cracked, "They had their guns pointed at her, Daphne." Her tears were flowing and she looked devastated.

Daphne's own tears matched the redhead's.

"I found her curled into a ball," Sunset was crying now. "I dove on top of her. Shielded her. Managed to convince the armatures that she wasn't a threat. That she wasn't trying to escape."

While Daphne was traumatized by what she was being told, she was also struck by how deeply attached Sunset was becoming to her daughters. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. But she also thought about how distressed Olivia must be.

"The experience isn't punishment enough?" asked Daphne quietly.

Sunset wiped at tears and shook her head.

"I'm not sure about this, Sunset."

Eyes still wet, the redhead sniffed and set her expression. She spoke softly, "My decision is final. If you have a problem with it, I suggest you take it up with Daniel."

Daphne was taken aback, but Sunset spoke with finality in her voice and stood up from the couch. "I am going to make some dinner. If you wish, you may take Olivia's to her. She's going to eat in her room for awhile."

With that, the beautiful, stricken redhead got up and strode to the kitchen.

* * *

Olivia's frown felt, by now, like it was chiseled onto her face. She lay flat on her stomach on the bed, face buried in the duvet, a half-eaten plate of glazed chicken and roasted vegetables next to her. She'd recovered from her horrible fright at the hands of the murderous robots, but Sunset's fury was still fresh in her mind, and not just because the extraordinary wrath was keeping her confined to her room. Frustration struck at her from multiple sides. She was terribly bored without her violin or her handtab full of language lessons. She had no one to talk to and had only been provided with a couple of dry paper books on grammar and math. Sunset told her those would comprise her instruction for the immediate future.

The idea of not playing for violin or even having someone to talk to for days made her want to cry. Her mom had stopped in to bring her dinner and chat for a bit. She'd asked Olivia if what Sunset told her was really what had happened. Olivia confirmed it and was crushed all over again at her mother's tearful expressions of worry and disappointment. Olivia, ever hopeful that she could salvage a bad situation, asked if she could talk to Sunset and explain. Her mother just gave her a sad look and said she should try to weather her punishment. She gave her a tight hug, a terse goodnight, and then left her to her lonely dinner.

Olivia wasn't very hungry. As the light outside her window faded and the time on her dresser clock ticked towards nine thirty, Olivia decided that sleep would probably be the least boring thing she could engage in. Hope surged as a light knock sounded at her door. She looked to it expectantly. Maybe Sunset had forgiven her! Her mood plunged again as she saw Pippa's frowning face peeking into her room.

"Sunset wants you to brush your teeth and then come back and go to bed," her sister informed her before retreating.

Olivia flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Being allowed to leave her room would be lovely. Having to see Sunset's crestfallen face once again and then trudging back to her confinement would be excruciating. Still, there was nothing for it. She crawled from her bed and walked into the hallway. With a candid glance to her left, she saw Sunset sitting at the dining room table, head lowered, hands wrapped around a steaming mug. Pippa sat next to her, looking totally helpless as to how to help matters for either of them.

Olivia considered calling out to her governess again. Surely if she could just be given a chance to explain what had happened, she could fix everything. But the idea of hearing the terrible disappointment in Sunset's voice bid her to turn and make for the bathroom instead. She took longer than usual to brush her teeth, holding out hope that maybe Pippa or Sunset would appear and tell her that she'd been punished enough. That it was all over. That she need not continue this dreadful isolation. Predictably, neither happened, and Olivia decided that she should get back to her room lest she make Sunset even more angry. Neither the redhead nor her sister had moved from their positions when she made it back to her room. And neither responded when Olivia bid them a quiet goodnight.

Olivia closed her door and collapsed into her bed. She couldn't hold back her tears now that the full reality of the situation pressed in on her. All the people in her life had pulled away. She was all alone with no one to talk to and no one to listen to her. She pulled the duvet to her wet cheeks and softly sobbed. Then, something bizarre happened. She heard someone speak.

"Hello?" came the voice. It was high-pitched, like a young girl's. And it was muted, attenuated, as if it was coming from a great distance. By Olivia's best reckoning, it seemed to be emanating from the ceiling above her bed.

Olivia was confused, but she wasn't particularly scared. This wasn't the voice of a monster. It was soft. Vulnerable.

"Who's there?" Olivia called back. "Where are you?"

"Oh!" said the small voice, sounding surprised and excited. "I know you! Or I'm supposed to."

"Where are you?" Olivia repeated.

"I'm here!" the voice responded brightly. "At least, I think I am."

"Okay. Where's here?" Olivia queried.

"With you, silly!" chimed the voice, unhelpfully. 

"I can't see you," Olivia stated, still as perfectly confused as when the conversation had started.

"That's strange. I can see you. Why can't you see me?"

Olivia was growing frustrated. "How should I know!? What do you look like?"

A long pause.

"Huh. I don't know," said the small voice, seeming a little concerned. "I don't know if anyone has actually seen me before."

Olivia tried a different tack. "You don't have any way that I can see you?"

The voice paused again. Then Olivia saw a light from her window. Small golden sparks began to rain down outside. They fell in graceful arcs, converging to a brilliant point in space where they spit and sputtered. Olivia's mouth fell open as the light show cast stark shadows into her room.

The point pulsed in time with the voice, "There! You can see me now!"

The light sputtered out.

"Ow. That hurt a little," it said.

"Sorry," Olivia said, guilty she had demanded something painful of the voice. Still, she was awed. "Who _are_ you?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?" the small voice was confused now.

"I mean, what's your name?"

"My— my name? I don't know if I have one," said the voice, tinged with melancholy.

"Would you like me to give you one?" Olivia asked.

"Ooh, yes!" the voice was excited again. "I'd love to have a name!"

Olivia thought for a moment. "How about 'Tell'? Since that seems to be something you can't really do."

"'Tell'..." the voice sounded like it was trying the name on for size. "I like it!"

"So," Olivia trailed off. This was one of the stranger conversations she'd ever had, and she struggled with what to say to the sprightly, disembodied voice. "Why are you in my room?"

"So I can be with you!" Tell offered, again unhelpfully.

"Yes, but why are you here at all?"

A small delay.

"I think I'm here to protect you," said Tell with some uncertainty. "Don't you need protecting?"

"Well, someone did tell me I was almost killed today," Olivia said, probably less seriously than she should have.

"Oh, no! So you _do_ need protecting!" said Tell, anxiously.

"How are you going to do that?" asked Olivia. Then, "What even are you, Tell?"

"Ooh! That's an easy one," Tell chirped. "I'm an angel."

* * *

Daphne's bracelet had sent her back to her cell shortly after she'd delivered Olivia her meal and had eaten herself. She was unsettled about her youngest having to endure a punishment she hadn't devised. She was shaken from her anxious detachment by the double chime that signaled Daniel was coming for her. She set aside her concern and instead concentrate on what she would wear for him. As always, she was spoiled for choice. She eventually decided on a gauzy pink-and-black basque. Before she clipped the garter belt to her hose, she chose to eschew the silky black panties. Finished dressing — if she could even call it that — she regarded herself once again in the mirror.

_I wonder if Daniel likes my pubic hair._

She hadn't actually wondered that until this moment. But she knew that most men preferred it well-groomed or absent altogether. And showing that kind of attention would display her willingness to prioritize Daniel's influence on her appearance. He would surely like that.

Judging that she had enough time before he made it down, Daphne wetted a washcloth in the sink and applied some foam to her vulva. Carefully wielding the safety razor, she removed the hair from her mons and then carefully shaved her labia. She considered the sparse hair further down, but that couldn't be helped with the time she had or equipment she'd been provided. The thought of being totally hairless wasn't unappealing, so she gave some thought to asking Daniel for the necessary tools. Waxing strips, maybe.

The insistent chime stole Daphne from her ministrations. She walked to the center of the cell and kneeled obediently. As the door opened, she slowly raised her head, offering her best supplicating expression. She hid her glee at his wide, admiring smile.

_Oh! He likes it! He likes _me_!_

"Why don't you look just lovely, pet."

He approached her and grasped her hand, pulling her gently to her feet. He embraced her from behind, setting his chin on her shoulder and cupping her breasts. Daphne shivered slightly at his touch, her body betraying her continued instinctual reticence at responding to his use of her. He slowly ran his hands down her abdomen, eventually reaching her vulva. As he paused, Daphne was alarmed.

"What's this, pet?" he whispered playfully, slowly running his forefinger into her slit. "Have you shaved for me?"

"Do you like it?" Daphne asked demurely.

"Mmm," he moaned it reply. Daphne could feel his erection pressing at her buttocks. Then his voice, still quiet, became serious, "But did I give you permission to alter your body?"

_Oh, god. I didn't think of that!_

Daphne's eyes widened and she spun to face him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think! Forgive me!"

He had a skeptical look in his eyes. "Hmm. I'll devise an appropriate punishment for you later."

Her head dipped. His last punishment had been so brutal.

"But now, pet, we need to continue your throat training."

Daphne felt her stomach drop. A part of her had held out hope that he'd forgotten. But Daniel never forgot.

He crossed to her 'toy box' and surveyed his potential tools. If he wasn't going to use his member for the job, he was spoiled for choice. As he stood, Daphne was a little puzzled at his selection. In his hand was a slender rod of stainless steel with several protrusions at its tip. Like a toothbrush, only the bristles were much more thick and sparse and were themselves made of metal. Daphne felt a deep pang of nausea. The idea of being totally robbed of control, of having him probe her mouth with that thing unsettled her stomach.

He walked over to her bed, setting his back against the wall. He patted the mattress in front of him. She obliged, taking a seat between his legs. A reached around and placed his hand on her chest, leaning her back against him.

"The key to making the use of your throat an inviting prospect is desensitization, pet. I'm going to rub all over the back of your mouth with this," he stated, presenting the steel brush before her. "All you need to do is relax and focus on your breathing. We must teach your brain that, no matter what is in your mouth or how it's making its way down your throat, it mustn't panic."

That sounded horrible.

"Are you ready?"

Daphne nodded.

"Open your mouth."

She complied. He gently grasped her forehead with one hand and inserted the brush with the other. He touched it on the roof of her mouth and slowly moved it back. When she started to gag, he paused.

"Breathe, pet."

She did. She focused on slow inhales and exhales. She told herself that she was okay. That she could breathe just fine. He began to slowly rub the patch. The irritation built and built until she could suppress the reflex no longer. Her body heaved from hips to head and she unconsciously used her tongue and lips to reject the rod.

Daniel lowered his hand from her forehead and slowly closed it around her neck. He sighed and said into her ear, "That will not do, Daphne. We're barely getting started and you're already fighting me."

She was moved to tears, fiercely shamed that she'd disappointed him so shortly into the exercise. Then she had a rush of hope.

She spun in his grasp, bracing herself upright with her hands on his chest. "You said you would bring me something to make it easier, didn't you? Please, Daniel. I wan't to learn. I just need a little help."

He nodded slowly and reached into a pocket, retrieving a fingernail-sized neon blue wafer. He held it in front of her.

"This contains a substance called Away," he said. "It will help you to relax. It will loosen your rejection reflexes and refocus you on your pleasure-seeking instincts rather than your less-useful survival instincts."

Daphne hesitated. "A— a drug?"

Drugs had done so much damage to her life. They had stolen her husband from her. Shredded her marriage. Surely Daniel knew this. He knew everything else about her.

He chuckled at her concern, "Drugs are just tools, Daphne. In your previous life, you drank coffee to wake up before work. Caffeine is a drug. And I'm sure you had the occasional drink to calm down in the evenings."

As ever, Daniel wasn't wrong. She slowly came around to the idea. He'd already made a concession by offering this to her. Away could be the solution to enduring this horrible process without angering him even more.

"I guess I can try it," she said reluctantly.

He grinned. The small blue saucer had a tiny protrusion which he placed in her nostril.

"All you have to do is breathe in."

He squeezed the wafer and it activated with a sharp snapping sound.

She inhaled sharply. A cool mist filled her lungs and Daphne's life changed forever.

* * *


	5. "Awakening"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daphne ascends. Olivia gets to know Tell. Pippa and Sunset exercise. Daphne falls back to earth. Olivia and Sunset talk. Daphne missteps and is forced to make a momentous choice. Pippa's body betrays her.

##### Daphne - Olivia - Pippa

* * *

Daphne gasped deeply in her first few moments of rebirth. A wonderful rush of heat spread out from her chest to the tips of her toes. She could feel the room slowly pulsing in time with her heartbeat as a thin, shimmering haze began to descend, lining the edges of her vision. The fact that the room around her was cramped and impoverished no longer registered with her. The whole world was now bursting with brilliant potential. Potential for fulfillment and accomplishment and joy. But, most importantly, the potential for pleasure.

Arousal permeated Daphne. She was enveloped by it. Steeped in it. Soaked through with it. It spurred her towards release with furious purpose. That achievement was the single most important goal with which she'd ever been faced. She could see the destination so clearly, but its terrible distance made her want to despair. It was as if she had a massive mountain to summit but no means by which to do it. She grieved at the enormity of the undertaking. Every fiber of Daphne's being begged her for climax, but the task appeared nearly impossible to accomplish. A far away and logical facet of her mind wondered why this was. Orgasm had never before been such a terribly daunting prospect.

She gradually became aware of the body that was embracing her. Daphne's perception of Daniel surged in her mind. She felt intimately and profoundly connected to him, as if he was a prehensile extension of her own aptitude for stimulation. She leaned back into him, letting the wondrous sensation of skin-to-skin contact flood her. He reached around and ran his hands beneath the cups of her basque, gently freeing and groping her breasts and then gripping her nipples, twisting them tenderly between his fingers. Daphne exhaled and moved that little bit up the mountain.

Daniel's voice echoed from far away, "We have work to do, pet."

His hands traveled up her chest and rubbed at her lips, teasing them apart. She opened them willingly. Her mouth was simply another corridor into which the elements of her ultimate release could enter. Daniel inserted the tool with the dull spikes once again to the back of her mouth. It traced bright lines of titillation as it penetrated, intensifying as it went deeper and deeper. What before had been an invitation for reflexive rejection became instead a flood of stimulation. What her body had once instinctually recognized as a degradation of her autonomy was now a welcome accelerant of deliverance. 

Daniel palpated the soft reaches of her mouth with the cold steel implement. Daphne felt a corresponding waves of tension in her abdomen, but instead of travelling up to her mouth to rebuff the intrusion, they travelled down to the glistening centers of her pleasure. Warm liquid slowly ran down her legs. Daphne was lazily gushing. She reached down to stimulate those all-important levers of release for herself, but Daniel caught her hand.

"No, no, pet. Let's keep your hands clear."

He continued his probing, increasing the pressure and span of the movements inside her mouth. But for Daphne, the novelty was fast fading. Her body was fast incorporating the once-invasive sensations, normalizing them. They were losing their capacity to propel her upwards. She reached for his hand to help him guide the instrument to fresher, more virginal parts of her mouth. He grunted and left the tool in her grasp, slipping away from behind her. Mellow panic swept over. Daniel was a critical element of her climax. The last thing she needed was for him to leave. She felt a small, sweet relief as he returned to his place. 

He grasped her wrists and fastened the familiar padded cuffs around them. As he bound her hands behind her back once again, the restriction of her capacity for self-stimulation balanced with the excitement that accompanied willful surrender. So long as he continued scrutinize and test the sensitive parts of her body, any bondage he imposed would be a welcome addition to her quest for nirvana. As she leaned back into him, she felt his erection between her bound hands. She got her knees under herself and reached for him. It was awkward, but she managed to lower his zipper and extract the new tool. Daniel surely realized her intentions, but he left her struggling to position him at her entrance. She wiggled and writhed, trying with quiet, mounting desperation to impale herself.

Eventually, she managed. The delicious sensation of penetration immediately launched her partway up the mountain. The fullness was immense. Daniel's size had once been a problem for her. Now, as she pushed him to her limits and then beyond, the feeling of tissue stretching and sensitive barriers being impinged upon just wrenched her arousal higher. Each stroke expanded her mind with fresh knowledge of what pleasure could be. She began to ride him steadily up and down. 

Placid frustration was still a constant companion in her state. Right above where their bodies met in exquisite interface was a button made of pure joy just waiting to be pressed. Daniel had prevented her from pressing it herself and now seemed loath to do it at all, so Daphne used his penetrating flesh to rub against its roots deep inside her. It wasn't quite the same, but it was close enough.

She was perilously close to her goal. The parts were coming together, but Daphne couldn't help but feel that it still wouldn't be enough. What more could she bring to bear? The continued probing of the steel rod brought to mind the various sensations she'd experienced when Daniel had so roughly introduced her to his blunt approach to oral sex. Daphne's newly reformed perspective cast that ordeal in a wholly different light. Now the vivid recollections of distress and discomfort and surrender provoked fervid excitement.

Daphne decided that she was breathing too easily. She whispered around the rod, "Choke me."

A part of her mind that Away had pushed far to the background lashed out in disgust at her request. It had been protesting — vainly attempting to interfere — since this whole affair had begun. Daphne casually ignored it. She had absolutely no intention of turning back now.

Daniel mumbled and moved his free hand to her neck. He massaged it, but did not squeeze. She leaned forward into his grasp and moaned in encouragement. 

"Ask for it," he commanded.

"Will you please choke me?" she asked without hesitation. It was far too late for reticence.

"Beg me for it, pet," he ordered.

"Please. I beg you, Daniel," she complied, her confidence growing. The game of words they were playing only enhanced her arousal. Daniel was gradually teasing more out of her. More motivation. More commitment. "Your pet would do it herself, but you've bound her hands. Please. Please choke me."

His grip slowly closed and her easy breaths became constricted rasps. She felt a rush of elation. Breath was one of the few things she couldn't willingly trade, even in this state. His seizure of it was slowly inching her closer to climax.

"You should know, pet, that should you come, the Away will be absorbed," Daniel warned. "Are you sure you want to return to the way you were?"

Daphne despised the idea. She knew in her soul that this was her natural state. This was who she was destined to be. Ordained to be. The universe wanted her like this.

But she also didn't have a choice in the matter. From the moment she'd been dosed with Away, this end had been self-fulfilling. The ultimate purpose of this new person she had become was clear. It was to die. To drag herself to the awful precipice and throw herself over and descend back to the insipid hell that was life without Away.

Daniel was rhythmically releasing and tightening his grasp on her throat. Daphne could hear her pulse in her ears and felt burning across her face. She felt her mind's complaint at the deprivation of air reverberating throughout her body. Her primal instinct screamed at her, _You are dying_. Yes. That was the point. The sheer perversity of willfully depriving herself of that which ensured her life was thrusting her ever nearer to the summit.

The world was getting blurrier and the sounds of her body were beginning to overtake the sounds of the room. As her consciousness began to fade, Daphne caught sight of her goal. She was about to obtain the impossible. What had begun as a monumental, grief-inducing trial was so near to completion that she knew she would gladly continue her journey to the end even if it meant she actually would die. Just before the blackness consumed her, Daphne burst into the light. She had finally ascended. Nirvana was waiting for her.

Back in her claustrophobic underground cell of bare concrete, drugged nearly into a different reality and being willingly asphyxiated, thrashing and grunting like rabid animal, Daphne Fisher impaled her gushing womanhood on her kidnapper with an addled, contented smile plastered across her face. She orgasmed with a primal, ear-splitting shriek, then passed out.

* * *

Warm morning light splashed onto Olivia's face, stirring her from her sleep. She groggily rubbed at her eyes as she came to. Her stomach dropped as she recalled what had happened the previous day. She was being confined. Punished. Then she remembered that something else, something amazing, had happened last night. Olivia wasn't alone anymore. She'd made a wonderful new friend. 

"Tell?" Olivia anxiously called out.

"You're awake! Finally!" came Tell's sprightly voice. Olivia felt a rush of relief as the voice confirmed that she hadn't simply dreamed Tell's existence.

"Finally?" Olivia asked, puzzled. "How long have you been awake?"

"Um," said Tell, embarrassed.

"Wait. Do you sleep?"

"Uh. No," said the angel.

"Have you been watching me all night?" asked Olivia incredulously.

"No!" Tell said quickly. Then, "Okay, yes."

Olivia stared at the ceiling where Tell's voice emanated and gave a wry grin.

"I didn't have anything else to do!" complained the angel.

Olivia's curiosity was piqued. "Can't you move around?"

"I think I can only be where you are. It hurts to be anywhere else," said Tell.

Olivia's questions were interrupted by a rap at her door. Pippa called from outside, "Time to wake up, Olivia. I'm bringing your breakfast in a little bit."

"Oh, I can't wait until Pippa meets you!" gushed Olivia.

"No, Olivia! You can't do that!" said Tell, distressed.

"Why not?"

"I'm only here for you! I can only be with you because only you know about me." the angel exclaimed. "I don't know what would happen if someone else knew about me. It doesn't feel like it would be good, though."

Olivia frowned. Tell was wonderful. Surely Sunset and Pippa would love her.

"Please, Olivia. Please promise me you'll keep me secret."

The idea was disappointing, but she didn't want to jeopardize her new relationship with Tell. Secrets were just so difficult. Very deliberately _not_ talking wasn't one of Olivia's strong suits.

"Okay," she promised reluctantly.

Tell sighed in relief. It was a peculiar airy sound. Like a breeze through the trees.

Another knock sounded and Olivia's door opened. Pippa strode through the door holding a tray with a steaming plate of eggs, toast, and sausage links. A small glass of orange juice sat beside the morning feast. At least Sunset wasn't neglecting her nutrition.

"Your breakfast," she stated flatly.

Pippa sat the tray down on Olivia's bed and regarded her curiously.

"You look pretty chipper this morning."

Olivia checked her grin. "I slept good," she lied.

Pippa huffed, looking dubious. "Hmm. Well, I'd get used to your room for now," she said with a frown. "Other than a shower and bathroom breaks, I don't think Sunset is going to let you come out today. She's really angry, Olivia. I can't remember mom ever being this harsh."

Olivia gave a frown of her own. Though her punishment would be much easier to bear with the benefit of Tell's company, she was still sad that she'd made Sunset so upset.

Pippa left her to her breakfast.

"Well, isn't she just a bundle of laughs," Tell quipped when the door closed.

"She's right," Olivia sighed, flopping back onto her pillow with a sigh. "Sunset is right to be mad. What I did was really stupid."

Tell changed the subject. "Olivia? What's breakfast?" she asked innocently.

Olivia grinned. She and Tell were going to have so much to talk about.

* * *

Daphne had fallen precipitously into an acute depression. She lazily extricated herself from Daniel's spent manhood. The memory of her incredible high was seared into her mind and her separation from it was crushing. The emotions and sensations still seemed tangible. The fact that they were also now so terribly far away made her want to cry.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before Daniel scooted forward and unclipped her wrist restraints.

"That was amazing," he marveled.

Daphne stared at the floor and said nothing. She was quite sure it had indeed been wonderful. But that all felt like it was in the distant past. Practically a lifetime ago.

He stroked her back and ran his fingers through her hair. The sensation seemed so dull compared to moments ago. He reached around and massaged her breasts. Daphne felt nothing.

"Are you okay, pet?" he asked, slight worry tinting his voice.

"Yes," she deadpanned. She was not, but she saw no way he could help.

Daphne floated absently through the brief conversation that followed. Yes, she had enjoyed herself. Yes, she also felt that her throat would be more cooperative in the future. Yes, she knew she was a good girl. Daphne went through the motions and still felt nothing.

Eventually, Daniel got up and bid her good day. She gave no reaction as he kissed her forehead and left.

The ambient light shifted from red to green. Daphne sat, numb and unmoving, staring straight ahead as the long minutes of a potential day with her children ticked away without her.

* * *

The artificial sun couldn't compare to the one that hung above the Boston summers, but it still provided plenty of warmth for Pippa and Sunset as they exercised on the lawn. It was more than just illumination; Pippa could _feel_ it on her skin. Sunset told her that, even though it wasn't real sunshine, the bright yellow light still had beneficial qualities. Something about vitamin D. Since the large metal door leading into the twisting compound corridors was shut tight in the aftermath of Olivia's transgression, the pair had to make do with the limited space on the front lawn.

They'd begun with warm-up stretches. Then Sunset had Pippa practice some sprint starts. She'd been training for the school track team before they'd taken refuge in Daniel's compound. Pippa was, as always, astonished at how Sunset knew so much about so many different things. She had plenty of helpful feedback on Pippa's form.

Now they'd moved on to general calisthenics. Pippa's pulse raced and she huffed as Sunset relentlessly counted off sets of push-ups and sit-ups, jumping jacks and burpees. But it wasn't just the exercise that had Pippa's heart rate up. Sunset was dressed in enticing athletic wear: thin black leggings and a tight sports bra. The gorgeous redhead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

Before today, Pippa had let the long, meandering runs through unfamiliar hallways distract her from Sunset's body. The static nature of this workout afforded her no such opportunity. So she simply tried her best not to be too blatant in her staring. It wasn't easy. From behind, Pippa's view was filled with Sunset's firm, shapely buttocks and playfully bobbing ponytail. And from the front, all she could pay attention to were the redhead's invitingly bouncing breasts and that tantalizing cleft between her legs.

When they'd first met and her infatuation had so furiously kicked off, Pippa hadn't been able to tell if the obsession signaled that she wanted to be like Sunset or if she just _wanted_ Sunset. The long, lustful glances she'd been stealing all throughout their workout had put that question firmly to rest. For Pippa, having the answer provided little comfort. The fact the she was utterly clueless about romance or intimacy or seduction was the least of her problems. Sunset was a beautiful and graceful and mature woman. She was perfect. Pippa was just an awkward girl. And, regardless, she had a form that Sunset surely wouldn't find attractive.

"Pippa?" called her crush.

So preoccupied was Pippa that she'd missed Sunset starting another set of burpees.

"You seem distracted. What's going on?"

Pippa, fiercely embarrassed, stared at the lush synthetic grass.

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly.

"Is it Olivia? Are you worried about her?"

She probably should've been, but her sister's predicament was far from her mind at the moment.

"Yeah. That's it," Pippa lied.

Sunset walked up to her and laid her arms across her shoulders. Pippa shuddered slightly at her touch.

"She'll be okay," reassured the redhead. "I just need her to realize how foolish and dangerous her actions were. I'll talk to her tonight."

She exhaled heavily and ran her fingers across her scalp, straightening her ponytail.

"I think we've done enough exercise for today, Pippa. Let's finish with some stretches and then we can both get cool showers. It'll be time for lunch soon."

"Okay," said Pippa. Though she was indeed tired, she didn't want the session to end. She didn't want to stop looking at Sunset. It filled her with shame, but this was her favorite view of her ravishing governess short of when she imagined seeing her with no clothes at all. That captivating idea lodged in Pippa's mind and froze her in place just as the pair finished cooling down. She'd lost herself again.

Sunset walked up behind as Pippa stared, glassy-eyed, into nothing. "Time to go inside, young lady."

A jolt shot through her and snapped her to rigid attention. Sunset had just smacked her on the butt. It had surely been playful. Innocent. But Pippa's body in no way realized that. Humiliation surged as she felt a hardening in her skimpy workout shorts. 

Pippa sprinted towards the front door, fiercely determined to get away from Sunset before she realized what had happened. She could hear the redhead calling to her with faint concern as she ran directly to the bathroom and slammed the door. Pippa desperately needed that cold shower.

* * *

Daphne was being shadowed. She wasn't sure how long it had been since Daniel had departed, only that it was long enough for the door to lock for the night. The hangover from her torrid, drug-fueled session had seized every minute and stretched it out to excruciating length, forcing her to experience each interminably miserable moment. The lack of distractions in her cell became terribly obvious. Not that she could summon the energy to do anything but sit and breathe.

It was during this period that her pursuer had manifested. Unlike the schizophrenic voices she seemed to have escaped for the time being, this thing was well and truly inside her. It was a monster. A fiend that wore her face. Its thoughts were gravely insistent and its intentions horribly transparent. Or rather, intention — singular. It wanted only one thing and it had hijacked her mind with its plans to attain it. It was heedless and shameless and relentless, scheming with such fierce ambition that it was scaring Daphne to death.

As time wore on, Daphne did her best to ignore it and, blessedly, the beast seemed to be content to gradually fade into the background. But it didn't disappear. It wouldn't disappear. When her bracelet gave its first cheery chimes, signally her half-hour of preparation time, Daphne avoided thinking about the monster. She showered and applied her makeup and selected her lingerie, passing off her newly-found motivation for her upcoming session as caprice and nothing more.

Daphne regarded the finished product in the mirror once again. She wore a zip-up corset of black vinyl with halter straps and garters which clamped to matching fishnet stockings. Black patent leather platform heels wonderfully completed the ensemble. Her cleavage was on full display; the cups of the corset barely contained her nipples. And her labia peeked through a scandalous slit in her silk panties. A black band gathered her luminous golden hair into a low, loose ponytail. Daphne looked utterly tantalizing. The thing in her mind silently thanked Daniel for offering her these marvelous opportunities to indulge in such elaborate sexual fashion. These outfits made her compelling. Made her powerful. Daphne's own mind reluctantly echoed its agreement. She'd never looked so inviting before. She hadn't had the occasion or the bravery to attempt it.

The bracelet chimed again and Daphne felt it necessary to garnish the display. She walked over to her toy box and withdrew the flanged anal dildo. Then she kneeled in the center of the room, head down and hands out, presenting the carnal implement as if it belonged on a velvet pillow. She didn't look up as the door to the elevator corridor swung open. She didn't look up as she heard Daniel's shoes scuff to a halt still several paces away.

"My god, pet," he breathed. "Stand up. I wan't to see you."

Daphne rocked back on the heels and stood, head still down, hands still outstretched with their offering.

"You're developing such wonderful instincts," he said. She could hear a wide smile on his face. Now she lifted her head, displaying a demure smile of her own.

He crossed to her with long, deliberate strides, stepping behind her and pressing his body against her back. She sighed as he reached around and ran his hand up to her neck, then shivered as he grasped her jaw and tilted her head, planting feather-light kisses up the side of her neck. She reached around and gripped his buttocks, letting the hand with the dildo fall to her side.

"You. Look. Ravishing," he breathed through his kisses.

"I'm so glad you approve," she said. The statement escaped thoughtlessly and its truth struck her.

He spun her swiftly around and kissed her deeply on the mouth. As she relaxed in his arms and entwined her tongue with his, she realized this was the first time he had kissed her so.

He laughed with joy and scooped her into his arms and span in place. Her hair flowed outward with the momentum.

"I suppose you have an idea of what to do with that?" he asked playfully, nodding his head at the dildo she still grasped in her hand.

"I have all sorts of ideas," she replied with a mischievous grin.

"I can only imagine," he extolled, turning to carry her to her mattress.

 _This is the moment,_ hissed the fiend in her mind. _This is what we've been working for._

Almost without her own permission, Daphne leaned in and whispered into Daniel's ear, "Maybe I could take some Away to spice things up."

He halted abruptly and set her back on her feet.

She was taken aback and looked to his face in confusion. The expression she saw shook her to her core. It was a hideous mix of dark incredulity and open scorn.

"I— I only meant—" she stuttered.

"Only meant what?" he interrupted sharply. "I thought I'd made myself clear." His voice was steadily rising in volume. "Drugs are tools, Daphne. To be used _only when necessary_."

She was terrified, but the beast inside her was raging. Its abject fury filled her with notions of indignant protest. But all that bounced violently off the horrifying reality embodied by Daniel's vehement disdain, reflecting back to her as raw, fresh dread. She couldn't even think about challenging him in this state.

"I'm sorry—" she began but was again cut off.

"Between this mistake and your changing your body without my permission, I think it's quite clear that you need some serious correction."

"Oh, god, Daniel. Please don't." She laid her hands on his chest and begged through burgeoning tears. "I'm so sorry. Please don't hurt me. I'll be better. I'll never do it again."

"That is what we will strive to ensure, pet," he said, grasping a wrist and slowly stepping behind her back, twisting it with him as he moved. Daphne's pleas devolved into cries of helplessness.

"I heard that you took exception to Sunset's punishment for Olivia," he hissed into her ear. "Perhaps foolish abandon lies somewhere in your genes." 

Sobs wracked her labored breaths.

"What about your time here indicated that I approach the security of my home with anything but the utmost seriousness? How could you possibly attempt to justify your daughter's childish violation in the face of the terrible jeopardy she placed herself in?" he asked venomously.

Daphne's mind was spinning. Even if she'd had answers, she wouldn't have been able to summon them. 

He continued, "Now you're trying to excuse your obvious disregard for the gravity of substance abuse! And after all the terrible examples your husband provided you and your children!"

Her heart plunged and her tears redoubled as the horrible accusation struck true.

"How can I ever trust you— how can you ever trust yourself, Daphne, when you are so unaware of your own poor judgement? When you so obliviously put yourself and your daughters in danger?"

His reproach reached into her psyche and tore away any semblance of confidence that remained there. Her mind raced to find something — anything — with which to refute his stinging indictment of her. She found nothing.

He released her wrist and stalked around to stand directly in front of her. He lifted her tear soaked chin and looked down his nose at her.

"Surely you now understand why I feel the need to reinforce my instruction on these matters."

As frightened as she was of the oncoming punishment, she did understand. And that understanding wrapped around and strangled the last vestiges of her autonomy like a steel chain. Daphne the independent mother was crushed outright. Daniel was right. Of course he was right. She couldn't be trusted. The devil inside her had driven her to seek drugs from him for nothing more than her own reckless pleasure. And she had let it! 

So deep was Daphne's self-recrimination that the fact that her cravings were the result of Daniel's persuading her to take Away in the first place simply did not occur to her.

She fell to her knees and the tool she'd planned on him using for her selfish gratification dropped from her grasp. She sobbed in despair as he stooped to pick up the dildo and crossed to her toy box to replace it with an instrument more suitable to deliver her agony.

* * *

Olivia was in the middle of dinner and a grammar lesson. Tell had displayed a fantastic curiosity for everything Olivia was doing. She engaged with Olivia's dry coursework with her typical liveliness. The angel was in the midst of an entertaining monologue demonstrating her newfound knowledge of how to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition. Apparently she found the rule ridiculous. Olivia was chuckling, a skewered piece of seared steak halfway in her mouth, when there came a knock on her door. Tell fell silent.

"Yeah?" Olivia called. It was probably Pippa coming to collect her plate. She'd barely had time to eat the steak.

The door opened and Olivia straightened up on her bed as she saw Sunset standing outside.

"Can I come in?" asked her governess.

Olivia, eyes slightly wide, nodded.

Sunset wandered in and sat on the edge of her bed. Tension soaked the room and smothered both inhabitants.

"How was dinner?" the redhead queried quietly.

"Really good," answered Olivia. Surely Sunset hadn't broken her two day silence just to ask her about her dinner.

"Good," said Sunset. A pregnant pause followed.

"Sunset—" Olivia began. The redhead was obviously struggling to get to the point.

"I was scared," blurted Sunset.

Olivia was taken aback. She knew that Sunset had been angry, but at no point had the redhead seemed frightened.

"I was terrified, Olivia," continued her governess. "You could have been killed. And it would have been all my fault."

* * *

Daniel turned back from her toy box with a small paddle in his hand. It was bound in leather, concave on one side and convex on the other. Silently, a small part of Daphne rejoiced that he hadn't chosen the cane again.

He walked up and pulled her to her feet by her wrist. Whenever he was this gentle, it forebode terrific pain in her future, as if he was already sorry for what she was about to go through.

"You need to learn that your whole body is an instrument for correction," he stated. "Grasp your wrists behind your back. Do not let go for any reason."

Daphne complied, whimpering softly.

He slowly pulled down the zipper of her corset part way. He spoke with dreadful tenderness as he peeled back the garment and freed her breasts.

"Let this pain speak to the woman who came to me a week ago," he said. "She's the one who has let you down, pet. She's the one I'm punishing."

Daphne bobbed her head in short, rapid nods. She clenched her eyes shut and drew her lips into a thin line. 

"You didn't realize it in the moment, pet, but that woman was a ticking time bomb. She failed you in so many ways."

Daniel brought the paddle down on her breast and Daphne shrieked.

* * *

It wasn't true. Olivia had been the one to leave the house by herself. Sunset was the one who had told her not to. Several times, in fact.

"Your fault?" Olivia asked quietly.

"Yes, Olivia. My fault," said Sunset, hanging her head. "I am supposed to protect you. The world is so full of danger. And you can't always be expected to know when you're walking into it. That's my job. I'm supposed to keep you from walking into it. I'm supposed to keep you in the safe places."

Olivia felt her shame flare all over again as she heard Sunset start to cry softly. Her governess was always supposed to be smiling. She deserved to be forever happy. The realization that Olivia's actions were causing the exact opposite made her want to slap herself.

"I'm sorry, Sunset. Please don't cry," she begged. "I was the one who wandered off even though you told me not to. I knew I wasn't supposed to. It's not your fault."

Sunset looked up at Olivia with a small smile underneath her tears.

* * *

"The foolish woman who came to me a week ago was the person who allowed your children to be abducted. I know she's still inside you. Can you see her?"

Daphne was practically hyperventilating. The pain in her bosom was exotic and novel and uniquely intense. But Daphne could indeed see the woman Daniel was punishing. She was slowly coming off Daphne like a second skin, peeling away as Daniel's punishment lifted her true self to higher understanding. It was stubborn indignation — ridiculous in the face of Daniel's insight — that pinned her in place as Daphne ascended.

"Imagine, Daphne. Just imagine what might have happened if some other predator had been the one to scoop you up. There are people out there — evil people — with nearly the same resources as me. People who traffic only in blood and sorrow. Imagine what horrors would be realized if that reckless, witless woman had delivered Pippa and Olivia into the clutches of one of those monsters."

Another strike and another ear-ringing howl.

* * *

"Part of the reason I've kept you in your room is that I couldn't stand to look at you knowing that I nearly lost you," Sunset weeped. "You understand, Olivia?"

"I think so," said Olivia. The fact that her confinement wasn't totally due to Sunset's anger was actually quite comforting.

Olivia inched over and sat next to her governess, wrapping her arms around the redhead.

"I— I feel very deeply for both you and Pippa," the redhead stuttered through sniffles. "I know it's been such a short time but I'm just so fond of both of you."

The way Sunset spoke made the sentiment feel like an understatement.

"I'm okay, Sunset. Really. Turns out I'm just really good at sneaking around."

Sunset let out a wet chuckle and wiped at her nose and eyes.

"You're so strong, Olivia," the redhead said expelling a wet sigh and hugging Olivia back tightly. "I'm impressed by how well you endured your punishment. It can't have been easy not having anyone to talk to for so long."

Olivia, head cradled by her new, caring friend, held her breath and gave a strained smile. Her eyes went wide and she felt like she would explode.

* * *

"Your daughters are upstairs right now, pet. Safe and sound. They're being cared for and nourished and loved in your absence. I want you to visualize the hell they would be enduring right now had you been just a little less fortunate. And realize that it was just that — sheer, dumb luck — that separates one fate from the other."

He lifted her breast by the nipple and struck the underside. Daphne screamed until her lungs emptied. The other woman dug her nails into Daphne's wrists in an attempt to avoid the pain, to steal it away elsewhere. But Daphne's agony floated her further up, buoying her. She looked down and scrutinized the woman Daniel was chastising. He was revealing with such astonishing clarity that what Daphne had thought was a strong, independent mother was, in actuality, a negligent fool. She was a weak, pitiful thing. She had nearly allowed her children to be killed. She'd willingly allowed the ghastly spectre of addiction to burrow into her mind and fester. 

The voice startled her as it reemerged. Between the furious pain in her breasts and the profoundly unsettling experience of her psyche being partitioned, the voice had no trouble penetrating to her core, slipping past her sense of reason.

_She's worthless!_

Daniel continued his exegesis, "But the woman who is sprouting right now in this room — right at this very moment — is the kind of person who could have prevented that. Could have protected her children. A woman who has found her place in the world."

_He's trying to save your life! You must listen to him!_

Another strike to the underside of the other breast. Daphne's voice began to break with the strain of her screams. She released the tight grip on her wrists and breathed deeply, embracing the pain, letting it flow into her. 

Daniel walked behind her and embraced her, placing a hand beneath her bruising breast and gently lifting it.

"There is only room enough inside you for one of those women, Daphne. I need you to choose now which one that will be."

_Kill her!_

Daniel brought the paddle down with awesome force. Daphne seized the pain. She wielded it like a lance and stabbed through the heart the despicable woman beneath her. 

Daphne Fisher roared in furious anguish and killed herself.

* * *

Pippa lay under her covers, feeling smothered by her dissatisfaction. Her shameful state had blessedly faded over the course of her shower, but the rest of her day with Sunset had been a long, awkward ordeal. The redhead tried to tease the cause of her malaise from her while Pippa just desperately tried to avoid thinking about Sunset's naked body, always anxious that her own anatomy would again betray her. That her mother had been absent the entire day hadn't helped matters. Pippa had no inclination to confide in her, but she would have at least been a welcome distraction.

Now Pippa drifted slowly off to sleep, frustration and confusion and abashment still nipping at her heels.

* * *

She awoke in the living room. It was still the dead of night, but a strange, seductive light was pouring through the windows. Pippa sat, reclined on the couch, paralyzed and anticipating something momentous. Out from the hallway strode Sunset. Pippa's eyes went wide as she took in the redheaded vision. The object of her profound infatuation was dressed in a short, sheer red nighty, tall stiletto heels and absolutely nothing else.

Guilt percolated somewhere in the distant reaches of Pippa's mind as she felt herself harden once again. But that took a back seat to her complete captivation.

Sunset danced as she approached, moving with a cat-like grace that made Pippa slightly dizzy. The room faded in and out around the redhead as if the world itself found concentration as difficult as Pippa did. Sunset halted in the center of the living room, just out of Pippa's reach. She never stopped moving, though. She writhed her body in gentle waves that produced just the right amount of thrusting in her chest and pelvis. The translucent fabric of her nighty did nothing to conceal the flesh underneath. If anything, the thin barrier only made her breasts more prominent, displayed them more invitingly.

Pippa found herself reaching out for Sunset's body. With a look of salacious mischief, the redhead obliged, approaching just close enough to touch. She turned and thrust her naked buttocks out and Pippa exhaled sharply as she reached beneath the flimsy fabric and stroked Sunset's pale skin. The redhead wriggled indulgently beneath her hands. Then she turned languidly and fixed Pippa with another ravishing smile. She crossed their remaining distance and took Pippa's hands in hers, placing them up on her perfect, round breasts. The soft mounds of flesh felt amazing to the touch. Pippa, wide-eyed, grasped and lifted and palpated them gently. She was breathless, speechless as Sunset continued to writhe, leaving the teen to explore her breasts as she stroked up her chest. She bit one long, painted fingernail in between her teeth while the other hand ran through her curtain of flowing red hair.

After a few moments gripping her magnificent bosom, Sunset shooed away the wandering hands and kneeled between Pippa's knees. Pippa hadn't realized it at first, but she wasn't wearing any clothes at all. She gazed past her shameful anatomy into Sunset's eyes. The deep gray irises spoke inaudible volumes. They suggested lust and affection, closeness and intimacy and understanding. But above all, they spoke of acceptance. Sunset wanted Pippa. All of Pippa. Even the parts that she herself didn't.

Pippa felt the room close around her as Sunset leaned in. Everything apart from her and her paramour disappeared from existence. The pair were now nowhere. They needed to be nowhere. A quiet sigh sounded — she wasn't sure whose — as she gripped Pippa's erection. Her touch was a like an infusion of energy. The sensation was exquisite, like nothing she'd ever felt before. Sunset's touch elevated her. Completed her.

Pippa moaned reflexively as Sunset began to stroke her. The redhead put a finger to her smiling lips and shushed, playfully acknowledging the teen's terrible anxiety. Something wonderful was building, and quickly. Sunset's smile dissolved into a pout of abject hunger as she placed her palm on Pippa's chest. The two moaned in unison, louder and louder, until Pippa finally erupted.

* * *

She sat bolt upright, gasping. Her awareness quickly sharpened. She was back in her room. The window shone not seductive red, but moonlit silver. Pippa sighed and anguished slightly as the upsetting, wonderful dream fled her. Then she became aware of a wetness slowly spreading over her lower body. Pippa whipped off her duvet and found a distressing, sticky mess.

She panicked. Sunset was the one who stripped down the girls' beds every other morning. Sunset was the one who bundled the bedding into the washing machine. What would she think when she saw this? She'll be so angry! She'll be so disgusted!

Pippa quickly changed her boxer briefs and ripped the sheet off the bed, rolling it up with the duvet and holding it out at arms length. She gingerly opened her bedroom door and peeked both ways down the hallway. Nothing. She tiptoed out towards the kitchen and the laundry room beyond. The house was smothered in stony midnight silence. 

Working with burglar's delicacy, she lifted the lid of the washing machine.

"Pippa?"

Pippa yelped in alarm and spun to see Sunset, red hair tousled and slightly frizzy, groggily standing in the kitchen, wearing a baggy t-shirt and fuzzy pajama pants. She limply held a toothbrush at her side and regarded her curiously.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Pippa's heart stopped. Her face flushed with furious heat. She opened her mouth to speak. To explain. To make any excuse at all. But no sound would come.

"Are you alright?" came the concerned question.

Pippa, wide-eyed and utterly mortified, dropped her bundle of sticky bedding and ran past Sunset back to her room, her hands over her eyes, tears flowing from beneath.

* * *


	6. "Obligation"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia and Sunset play once again. Pippa receives an education. Olivia and Sunset plan a party. A new woman finds her place in the world.

##### Olivia - Pippa - ???

* * *

Olivia rejoiced to the sounds of dueling strings once again. Following her late-night conclave with Sunset, her teacher had agreed to resume her instruction. When, that morning, the redhead had emerged from her bedroom carrying the wonderful black instrument, Olivia's heart leapt. Only at Sunset's firm insistence had she managed to stay at the kitchen counter and finish her breakfast before practically dragging the redhead to the living room to play.

Now that they'd been happily duetting for at least an hour, Olivia gradually allowed other concerns to creep into her mind. She faded to halt near the end of a movement and Sunset paused her playing. The redhead looked nearly as contented as she was.

"It's nice to play with you again," sighed her governess. "I missed it. Even for just two days." She leaned back in her chair and took on a wistful look. "I didn't have many opportunities to play music before I started this job."

"Really?" asked Olivia. That seemed like a waste. Sunset had such wonderful talent. The idea of it lying fallow saddened her. But the sentiment kindled her curiosity. "What _did_ you do before we came here, Sunset?"

The redhead straightened in her chair and her contented smile faded somewhat.

She hesitated then said cautiously, "I was an entertainer of sorts. I went all over the world, spending time with a variety of different clients. I had the chance to play for a few of them, but that was a pretty rare occurrence."

Olivia leaned forward. She hadn't really thought about what Sunset had done before she'd been their governess. But the idea of travelling all over the world to work aroused her keen interest.

"So you haven't always been a teacher? I guess I just assumed you worked with other kids."

Sunset looked a little anxious, "Some of my clients were on the younger side. Older teens, though," she said quickly. "Not as, uh, young as you are. Their parents would hire me to, um—" she looked away and hesitated again. "Instruct them."

Sunset had just said she'd been an entertainer. But she had taught teens?

"If you didn't get the chance to play music, what kind of things did you teach?" asked Olivia.

Now Sunset fully frowned and abruptly got up from the chair. "You know, Olivia, it's probably time we moved on to some language lessons, no?"

Olivia felt a stab of guilt. Sometimes adults behaved like this as her questions progressed. It was frustrating, since she never seemed to understand the reasons. She was just curious. But seeing her governess so discomfitted was enough to drive her to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Sunset. I didn't mean to ask that." 

The redhead's easy smile returned. "No, no, Olivia. It's fine. No need to be sorry. It's just that my life before I became governess to you and Pippa was very, um, different. Complicated. I guess I don't really like to talk about it."

That was reassuring, somewhat. Olivia was glad that Sunset didn't disapprove of her questions. She always had questions. The reference to her sister provoked new ones.

"Where _is_ Pippa?" Olivia wondered aloud. She hadn't been at breakfast. Olivia had been so focused on getting back to her violin instruction that she hadn't really noticed her sister's absence. 

"She's still in her room," Sunset said. She gave a slightly sullen, thoughtful look.

"Is she sick?"

"No," the redhead replied. "She's just going through some stuff. Things that all growing girls have to go though eventually."

"Oh," said Olivia. Teens made such a big deal about boobs and boyfriends and periods and sex — something she still didn't entirely understand. She was glad that she didn't have to think about any of that stuff.

"Actually, I should probably go talk with her about it," pondered Sunset. She looked at Olivia apologetically. "I think your language lesson might have to wait."

"Oh, that's fine," Olivia said cheerily. Tell would love Italian. She seemed fascinated by language. "I don't mind studying in my room for awhile."

"Really?" Sunset looked at her curiously. "I figured you'd want to avoid having to be alone after the last few days."

"Oh. Uh, yeah," said Olivia, looking away. "It's okay, really. It's not that bad." 

Of course, it was that bad. Olivia hated being alone. But now she wasn't. She just couldn't explain that to Sunset. Olivia started feeling the pressure build again. She wasn't good at lying.

"Okay," Sunset said slowly, squinting her eyes in suspicion.

Olivia got up and quickly replaced her violin on the stand.

"So," she said, glancing nonchalantly — or so she thought — around the room. She scooped the handtab full of language lessons from the dining room table. "I'm just gonna, you know, go to my room."

Olivia turned and walked swiftly back to her room. "Hope you can help Pippa!" she called over her shoulder. She slammed her door closed before Sunset could respond.

* * *

Pippa groaned into the pillow for the hundredth time that morning. Her stomach was growling, but she wanted to avoid leaving her room far more that she wanted to eat. She was still tired; she hadn't really slept since she'd fled from Sunset in the laundry room early that morning. Even if her mind had stopped racing for long enough to drift off to sleep, Pippa didn't want to repeat the horrifying episode of last night. So why couldn't she stop thinking about the dream? Pippa was torn. The results had been mortifying, but the dream was the most wonderful she'd ever had. She stuffed her head into the pillow and groaned again.

Her heart skipped as she heard a soft knock at the door. It had to be Sunset. Maybe if Pippa just stayed perfectly still and didn't make a sound, her governess would think she was still asleep. Or dead. Maybe the redhead would forget that she existed at all.

"Pippa?" came the quiet call.

She held her breath.

"Pippa, please talk to me. I need to know you're okay."

She could hear the worry in Sunset's voice. Pippa closed her eyes tight in frustration. She desperately wanted to avoid talking to the redhead, but she also couldn't just leave her to worry.

"I'm fine," Pippa called back. "I don't want to talk." The obvious conflict in the statement made Pippa wince.

"It's really important, Pippa. I'm not mad and you shouldn't feel ashamed. I just want to help you understand what's happening."

Pippa flipped and looked at the ceiling. She _did_ want to understand what was going on. And if Sunset wasn't angry or disgusted, as she'd feared, maybe talking to her could help. It would still be embarrassing. Her stomach reminded her that she would have to leave her room eventually. Which meant she'd have to talk to Sunset eventually.

Heart beating in her ears, Pippa slinked off the bed, crossed to the door, and opened it a crack. She turned back to her room without looking at Sunset.

The redhead entered and shut the door behind her. Sunset sat down on her bed and Pippa paced, not making eye contact.

"Are you okay?"

Pippa stopped and shot Sunset a look.

"Alright, so you're not okay."

Pippa said nothing and resumed her pacing.

Sunset sighed. "Pippa, I know you're embarrassed, but you really have nothing to feel bad about. What happened to you last night was perfectly natural."

Pippa groaned again and covered her eyes with her hand. Sunset wouldn't say that if she knew what Pippa's dream had been about.

"Pippa, I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I won't judge you. I— I can't judge you." 

Sunset sounded strained. Pippa ceased her pacing and looked to her again. Sunset was staring at the carpet. She _was_ embarrassed! Pippa's anger flared as she realized that the redhead was so obviously lying to her.

"Really? Because _you_ look perfectly comfortable." That sounded more accusatory than she'd intended.

Sunset's head shot up, her face showing slight anger of her own.

"That's not what this is," she said, clearly trying hard not to yell.

"That's what it looks like!" Pippa was trying less hard.

"I just feel a little—" she hesitated, "awkward."

Pippa's temper got the better of her. _She_ felt awkward!? What hypocrisy! "Because you're ashamed of me!"

"Because I love you!" exclaimed the redhead abruptly.

Pippa almost tripped over her own feet. She stopped and stared, wide-eyed, at her governess.

Sunset deflated and looked back to the carpet. " _I'm_ the one who should be embarrassed, Pippa. I've been taking care of you and your sister for barely a week," she said softly. "But I've already grown so attached. I _do_ love you. Both of you. It's pathetic — I'm not mother material — but my time here has been the happiest I've felt a long time. Years. And it's because of you."

Pippa felt simultaneously disappointed and relieved after Sunset explained what kind of 'love' she was referring to. This kind was far less complicated.

"It— you're not pathetic, Sunset. It's nice. It's sweet," stuttered Pippa, still dumbfounded. That Sunset could feel any embarrassment at all for being fond of her made her want to rush to the redhead's comfort. "I think you'd be a great mother."

Sunset gave a small smile and straightened on the bed. "I meant what I said. Nothing you could say to me would make me stop loving you. I know it's not really my place to explain this to you. You barely know me. But I'm the one who's here right now. And I happen to be pretty knowledgeable about this stuff. I have to do my best to explain that these things are normal. They're healthy."

Pippa's discomfort rushed back. Couldn't they keep talking about Sunset's problems? She resumed her pacing.

The redhead sighed again. "It's okay, Pippa. I'm guessing you woke up from a dream last night?"

Pippa nodded her head wordlessly, still pacing, still shielding her eyes from the world.

"Dreams like that are very common for teens," Sunset explained. "It just means you're growing up."

That felt like sugar-coating. Pippa stopped and looked Sunset. "Common for girls?"

"Sure," Sunset said easily.

"And normal girls end up with the same mess I had?" the teen asked dubiously.

"Well," Sunset replied slowly, "Not exactly."

Pippa threw up her hands and resumed her pacing. She was growing frustrated again. "See? You know why normal girls don't end up like that and I do? Because I'm not a real girl!"

She sensed a flurry of motion and, before she realized it, Sunset had halted her in her tracks, hands grasped tightly around her shoulders.

"I thought we talked about this," Sunset said seriously. Pippa felt her blood run cold. Sunset's look had some similarity to the one she wore when she'd punished Olivia.

The look immediately softened and Sunset slackened her grip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It just makes me so sad when you say things like that. But I know that you can't just stop feeling what you're feeling, Pippa."

She really couldn't. She'd tried.

The redhead looked deeply into Pippa's eyes. "I need you to realize something, though. I'm not speaking platitudes when I tell you you're just as much a woman as I am. When I tell you that it's your mind and your soul that makes you who you are and not your body. Please, take it from a woman who knows these things."

Pippa's head dipped. "But how can you know, Sunset? Women like you have never had to deal with—" she gestured vaguely at her crotch. "—this. How _could_ you know?"

"I know because I've been very close with several women just like you, Pippa."

She perked up. She knew they existed, but Pippa had never met another girl who'd been born in a boy's body. "Really?"

Sunset led Pippa back to the bed. 

"Yes," she breathed, as if to steel herself. "In my previous career, I worked with many women. A few men, too. We were all entertainers. Because of—" she hesitated, "—what we all did for a living, most of us were very close. We supported each other. Had each other's backs.

"Attractiveness was kind of a requirement in our industry. And there were several trans women there. Some had gone through surgeries to change their bodies, but most hadn't. They were _very_ successful, Pippa. Sought after, even."

"Even though they had—" Pippa trailed off.

"Penises," Sunset said matter-of-factly. Pippa blushed. "It's not a dirty word, Pippa. Yes. They were prized not in spite of the fact they'd kept their penises, but because of it. Because they were unique. Special. Beautiful."

The concept seemed alien to Pippa. She'd never thought of that part of her body as anything but a shameful reminder that she was somehow 'less than'.

"So yes, Pippa, I do know. You're right that I haven't lived it, but I've been very close to women who have. There's nothing about having a penis and expressing your sexuality with it that disqualifies you from being a woman. Do you believe me? Can you trust me on this?"

"Yes," she said softly. It was a difficult shift of perspective, but she _did_ trust Sunset. Right now, probably more than anyone. And, as much as it conflicted with how she'd thought about her body until now, it was wonderful to feel accepted for who she was. For how she looked.

Sunset sighed. "Good. I'm glad. So, again, what you went through last night is normal. In fact it's the exact same thing that happens when you masturbate. It's just unconscious."

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

"Pippa?"

"Hmm?" Pippa didn't look up from the carpet.

"You do know about masturbation, don't you?"

Silence.

"Oh, Pippa." Sunset sounded apologetic. Pippa leapt up and resumed her frustrated pacing. She gesticulated as she spoke.

"I don't have very many friends, Sunset! And the ones I do have are all girls! They talk about stuff like that, but it doesn't really apply to me, does it!?"

Sunset tried her best to suppress a smirk. Pippa stopped, her eyes going wide with indignation.

"Oh, god. I'm sorry, Pippa. I'm not making fun of you. It's obviously not funny."

Pippa crossed her arms and scowled.

Now Sunset took her turn covering her eyes.

"Okay. Right," she said. "Your mom never talked to you about masturbation?"

Pippa looked down. "She always seemed grossed out by stuff like that."

"Well that's not right," the redhead said seriously. "That's a bad example to set."

Pippa didn't know how she felt about Sunset judging her mom, but her own lack of knowledge seemed to validate the the criticism. Sunset _did_ know about this stuff. And at least she was willing to teach her.

Sunset sighed deeply. "Okay. Let's just start at the beginning."

Pippa gave a nervous moan and resumed her anxious pacing.

"Pippa. I need you to relax. These things are normal. Healthy. You need to know about them. You deserve to."

She looked back to the redhead with a pleading look on her face.

"It's okay," the redhead comforted. "Come, sit down, and breathe."

Pippa forced herself to oblige.

"Do you know what an erection is?" Sunset asked.

"It's— it's when my, uh—" Pippa paused.

"Penis," the redhead offered helpfully.

"When it gets hard?" she finished, blushing furiously.

"Yes," Sunset said. "When your penis gets hard, that's your body's way of telling you that it's ready for sexual activity."

"But I'm _not_ ready to have sex! I don't even know how!" exclaimed Pippa.

"Well, your body doesn't know that. And I'm afraid it begs to differ."

Pippa looked desperately confused. Sunset made a gesture for her to calm down.

"Breathe, Pippa. This is precisely what masturbation is for. Both men's and women's bodies are primed for sex. Usually from their early teens. It's just a part of being human. You often have very little control over it. Especially when you're just starting out. It's called arousal. Or getting horny."

"Well can't I just ignore it?" Pippa asked.

"Why do you think you ended up with sticky sheets?" retorted Sunset.

"Oh."

"Masturbation is a way to give the body what it expects from sex. To calm everything down. To release the tension. And to do it without involving anyone else."

"Great," griped Pippa. "Sounds like brushing my teeth."

Sunset laughed out loud. Pippa looked at her incredulously.

"Oh, god. I'm sorry," she said again. "I've never actually had to explain this before. Not the really basic stuff, at least. Masturbation's not a chore." She tried a different tack. "Do you remember the dream you had before you woke up in a mess?"

Pippa's heart skipped. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

"It's fine, Pippa. I imagine it was a pretty good dream."

Pippa nodded slightly.

"Well, that's how masturbation feels. You just need to stimulate your penis and maybe provide your mind with a little bit of that theater."

"Huh?"

Sunset sighed again. "Okay. What was your dream about?"

Pippa felt like she was going to die.

"Okay, okay! Breathe, Pippa," she held her palms out. "You obviously don't need to tell me that. But your mind is telling you that what you dreamed about is the kind of thing that stimulates you."

Understatement of the century, there.

"So that's the kind of thing you can think about while you masturbate. You might want to have some tissues handy, though," she said flatly.

Pippa was getting the picture. But the mechanics of the process still eluded her.

"So—" she began. "How do I actually, you know, do it?"

"Oh," Sunset said, "That's really the easy part. You're right-handed?"

Pippa nodded. She wasn't sure why that mattered.

Sunset raised her left hand with her fingers grouped together and pointing up. She gripped them with the thumb and fingers of her right hand and pumped up and down. "When you have an erection, you just stoke your penis like this. Having some lubrication is a good idea. Sometimes it feels good to go slow. Sometimes fast. Your body will tell you what it likes. As you continue stroking, you'll feel a sort of pressure begin to build. That's normal. That's the objective. Eventually you'll have an orgasm. That's when everything comes to a head and your body releases its sperm. It's a wonderful feeling. That's when you need the tissues. To avoid the mess."

"Oh. That seems... Simple."

"Well it's not complicated," Sunset said. "There are other things you can do for your body, too. You have budding breasts. They're probably starting to get sensitive. You can touch them and massage them. Your nipples would probably feel good to stimulate, too." Sunset spoke practically, looking up as if she were checking a list.

Her casual matter-of-factness was putting Pippa at ease. She made the process seem so simple. So natural. Still, the way she was talking about Pippa's body was making her feel strange.

The redhead continued, "You might also massage your testicles. Gently, though," she clarified quickly.

Pippa's put her hands on her lap and squeezed her legs together. She was getting hard again. Sunset wasn't joking when she'd said Pippa would have little control over when her body was horny.

Sunset looked wistful, "There's actually so much you can do to enhance your pleasure. There are toys — tools for sex — you can use, as well. Sex is a wonderful, expansive thing, Pippa. There's just so much to experience."

"Um—" Pippa said quietly, tightening her legs.

"Once you have a partner, things get really fun," the redhead said, becoming cheerily distracted. "Nothing like sex to bring two people closer."

"Sunset..."

"Not that you should feel pressured to have a partner," Sunset continued. "It's just that sex can be something very special between two people." She smiled mischievously. "Or more. Lots of interesting stuff you can do when you're with more than just one other person."

"Sunset!" Pippa exclaimed.

The redhead snapped from her reverie and looked over. Pippa had her hands clenched in her lap and had a desperate look on her blushing face.

"Oh. OH!" Sunset leapt up from the bed and walked swiftly from the room, closing the door behind her. Pippa was confused. Was that it? Was she going to just leave her?

She snapped her hands back down to her lap as Sunset reentered the room carrying a box of tissues and a bottle of lotion. She held them out. Pippa didn't move her hands from her lap.

"Oh..." said the redhead, putting the items on the bed next to the teen and turning to leave.

"Right now!?" Pippa exclaimed.

Sunset turned back with a wide smile on her face. Pippa felt like her governess was enjoying this tutoring a little too much.

"Gotta start some time! Always best to listen to your body in the moment, Pippa. And now that you know you have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, you can get a proper start!" she exclaimed happily, turning back to the door. "You can always come ask me more about it if you have questions."

"But—" Pippa began.

"Besides," Sunset called over her shoulder, "you only have so many sets of bedding! Good luck!"

With that, the governess-turned-sex-ed-teacher closed the door and left a bemused Pippa to her business.

* * *

Explaining the concept of music was turning out to be more complicated than she thought. Olivia and Tell had just finished with her Italian lessons. As she'd expected, Tell had been fascinated by the idea of other languages. Apparently the naive angel didn't even realize that there were other ways of speaking. Tell looked to be gearing up for a very long discussion on the the topic when Olivia heard Sunset leave her sister's room.

"I might go back out and play violin again, Tell," she said.

"That's fine," Tell said, slight disappointment tinging her voice.

"Do you come with me to the living room when I play?" Olivia queried.

"Of course!" chimed the angel.

"What do you think?" Olivia was rarely so shy about asking for others' opinions. But she was anxious about what Tell thought of her music.

"The sounds are beautiful," Tell said uncertainly.

Olivia sensed a 'but'. "But?"

A pause.

"I don't understand why you do it," Tell said, abashed.

Olivia thought about it. "Well, it's fun, I guess. It's easy to make really ugly sounds with a violin. Playing it well is difficult. When you can play well, it feels really good. It's an accomplishment."

"Oh," said Tell. "It doesn't get boring?"

"Not really," Olivia replied. "There's always more to learn. And when you get good enough, you can perform for other people. Strangers. That's always fun! I mean, it's nerve-racking, but if you do well, it feels amazing."

"Oh!" exclaimed the angel. The performance aspect seemed interesting to her. "So other people like to hear you play? Like I like to hear you talk?"

"Yeah," Olivia said. "Kind of like that."

"When are you going to play for other people?"

Olivia looked downcast. "I don't know. I had a recital planned. That's where music students play for each other's family and friends. But that was before I came here. There's not really anyone to play for now, so I guess I'm not going to have the opportunity."

Tell began, "Well I always like to—"

The angel fell silent as a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," said Olivia, sitting up.

Sunset opened the door and walked in. Her smile was cheerier than it had been when she'd left Olivia to go talk to her sister.

"How are the language lessons coming along?" she queried.

"Good," Olivia replied.

"Wonderful!" she chimed.

"Did you manage to help Pippa?" Olivia asked.

"Oh, yes. I think she's going to make it," Sunset said with a mischievous grin. "Speaking of. Make sure not to barge into your sister's room. You should always knock and ask to come in. Like I do. Pippa needs that sort of privacy at her age."

Olivia nodded in assent. That made sense to her. She shifted the topic.

"Sunset? When do you think I'll be able to go home?"

Sunset's smile evaporated. "I don't know, Olivia. It might be awhile," the redhead sat down on the bed next to her.

"Are you missing your friends?"

Olivia was a little surprised to find that she actually wasn't. All her friends were more school acquaintances. Tell was probably now the closest friend she had. Between her and Sunset, Olivia was the most fulfilled she'd been for awhile.

"Not really," Olivia replied. "I had a recital planned. It was supposed to be this week. And now I'm sad I'm going to miss it. I've been learning so much with you and I wish I could show it off."

Sunset looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Olivia. I truly don't know when you're mom will be able to take you home. It might very well be awhile." The redhead perked up. "But if you want to have a recital, we can do that."

"Really?" Olivia was skeptical. "But there's no one to play for."

"Well, it's true we won't have a very big crowd. But you can still perform for your mother and sister. And I'd love to hear you play a few full pieces."

Olivia looked to the ceiling and nodded in thought.

"Besides," Sunset continued, "Recitals are parties! And we can definitely throw a party. I can decorate the house and make some special food. We can all dress up in our nicest clothes and make a whole spectacle out of it!"

That would be wonderful. Olivia liked the idea of having a party just to celebrate her violin playing. She'd made so much fantastic progress under Sunset's tutelage, surely she'd earned a chance to display it.

"That sounds great, Sunset," she said. Then, "Do you think Daniel will come?"

Sunset hesitated. "I can ask him, I suppose. If you want."

Olivia was getting more and more excited about the idea. She was practically bouncing. She grabbed Sunset in a hug.

"Yes! Oh, Sunset. This sounds like so much fun. Thank you for making it happen."

Sunset embraced her back. "Of course, Olivia. I think it _will_ be fun. You work so hard on your playing. You deserve to celebrate it with everyone."

* * *

The new woman laid on her back on the thin mattress and did her best not to move. Both her mind and her body were reeling from the punishment Daniel had delivered. He was kneeling beside her, gently stroking her hair. That paradoxical sense of fulfillment had returned. She was mystified as to how Daniel's repeated inflictions of misery provoked such a profound sense of peace in their wake. Right now, she didn't care. The feeling was wonderful. The pain that still radiated out from her tender breasts was a small price to pay to attain such tranquility.

_He loves me. Why else would he give me these gifts?_

She agreed wholeheartedly. The woman she'd just killed would have disagreed vehemently. But she had been wrong and now she was dead. The new woman turned her head and smiled serenely at Daniel. She wanted to kiss him, but she didn't think it appropriate. _He_ should kiss _her_. It wasn't her place demand such things. He would reward her with it if she deserved it.

Daniel broached the silence, "How do you feel, pet?"

Her smile widened. "Wonderful."

"I'm so glad to hear that. I was worried you wouldn't be able see the reality of things. That the woman I punished would retain her hold on you."

"She didn't. She won't," said the new woman.

Daniel looked a little skeptical. "Are you so sure you'll be able to control her?"

"I won't need to," she said, matter-of-factly. "I killed her."

Daniel's eyes opened wide and he sucked in a breath, "Really?"

The new woman gleamed in triumph. Never before had she felt like she'd taken such control over her life. She felt so proud. "Yes."

"That's wonderful, Daphne."

A pang shot through her as he said the name. It felt awful, as if someone was calling her by a name that wasn't hers. It felt like when her husband had continued to stubbornly — hurtfully — call Pippa 'Phillip'. She frowned and looked away from him. Tears came to her eyes unbidden.

"What's wrong, pet?" Daniel looked concerned.

She had no right to require things of him. If he wanted to call her Daphne, then he had every right to. But it just hurt so much. She had to tell him that. If he needed to punish her for her insolence, so be it.

"I—" she hesitated, "—I don't like that name. I'm so sorry." She started softly crying. "That isn't me, Daniel. I killed Daphne. I had to."

Daniel leaned forward and cradled her head, shushing her softly. His comfort radiated through her.

"It's okay, pet. It's fine." he crooned. "You've done so well. You've been so brave."

'Pet' sounded right. It described her new place in the world perfectly. Daniel had explained it so succinctly, but she just hadn't been able to grasp it until he'd reinforced it with enough pain. He'd been desperately trying to tell her since the first day she'd arrived and he'd taken her body. Daphne had been a little person. She'd just been aimlessly treading water until the world crushed her and stole her children. 

Now that Daphne was gone, Daniel's pet was truly free. She was the luckiest person in the world. She'd been elevated from a helpless prey animal to a treasured, protected pet. Daniel had the whole world at his fingertips. And, if he thought it right, he could take Pet anywhere he wished. He could give Pet's daughters anything they needed.

"You could take a new name," he posited. "Something more appropriate to the woman you're becoming. If you think you deserve it."

Pet anguished. How could she ever know what she deserved? That was Daniel's job. It was quite simple. If he gave it to her, she deserved it. If she did not have it, she didn't deserve it.

"'Pet' is the only name you've given me," she said, sniffing quietly. "I chose to go by 'Daphne' before. Every day I chose to speak that pathetic woman into existence. I can't do it again, Daniel. What if I make a mistake? What if the new woman is just as misguided as Daphne was?"

Daniel gave her a wide, patronly smile. "You're becoming so wise, pet."

His praise filled her with so much joy she felt she would burst. She wrapped her arms around his and squealed softly.

"While 'pet' is a fine title, it's not a name. And my wonderful, beautiful pet _does_ deserve a name. I shall just have to think of one suitable for her."

Pet beamed at the idea Daniel would offer her such a spectacular present. How many people were given the chance to have their existence defined so perfectly for them?

"I can only hope that I'm worthy of it," she said somberly.

"I'm glad you're taking your role so seriously, pet. But you mustn't misunderstand. I don't keep dogs. And I didn't rescue you just for you to become a statue or a doll. You're still a woman. You're still a mother to your children. And you still have a great deal of responsibility. I told you as much when I gave you your room and your clothes and your bracelet."

Pet considered his words. Daniel still defined who she was. She could still count on him to correct her when she strayed from the path she was destined to walk. But she must still _walk_. On her own. It was a balancing act that felt precarious.

Pet had always had a keen mind. She had a sharp sense of motivation that had only grown stronger in her new life. What were her duties, then? Daniel was making sure her children were safe and cared for. Pet assumed she could still see them. Guide them. But he'd provided a caretaker for them so she could focus on her new job: pleasing him. That's what she now needed to pour her skill, creativity, and ambition into.

Pet slipped off her bed and knelt before him. She unzipped her vinyl corset and tossed it away, then laid her hands on her legs and smiled up at him.

She looked at his crotch and asked, "May I?"

He nodded.

Pet reached up and unzipped his fly. She gingerly reached in and extracted his manhood. She was delighted to see he was already somewhat erect. The idea that her supplication alone aroused him made her heart leap. It made her want to prove to him she was worthy of it.

She withdrew her hands then opened her mouth and took him in. He'd taken such strides to prepare this part of her to properly suit his needs. She intended to show him that his efforts had been worthwhile.

She delighted in his groans as she forced herself down onto his member. Her instinct to gag was still present in the background, but the resounding echoes of her Away-induced training enabled her to avoid the retching and swallow him fully. She took him deeply again and again. As she moved, she felt her breasts ache from the movement. Though intense, the discomfort reminded her of her victory. And it spurred her creativity.

_My pain is a reward from him and a gift to be passed on. It is something that he would enjoy receiving._

Pet pulled away from Daniel's manhood. It was slick, fully coated in her saliva. She reached down underneath her bruised breasts, lifting and pressing them together. The pain was exquisite. She opened her mouth and let her copious drool run down from her chin and pool between them.

She looked up at him and asked, "Will you sit?"

Daniel nodded slowly and sat on her bed. He looked almost shaken with arousal. His expression made Pet exultant.

Unable to suppress her whimper as the agony in her chest redoubled, Pet lowered her bosom onto his member. Her tear-filled brown eyes locked with his as she began to stroke him between her damaged breasts.

Daniel's breathing quickened and he began to moan rhythmically. She increased both her pace and her pain. Her mewling intensified but she kept her mouth open, saliva dripping down onto his manhood and easing his passage.

He was almost totally lost in his pleasure. Pet had never heard him moaning like this. She felt herself dripping onto the floor, but she ignored it. Her own gratification was both unimportant and insignificant. Pet felt Daniel losing control and she remembered something important about his preferences. She shouldn't waste his fluids.

As his member swelled and he paused his thrusting, Pet leaned down and took his head into her mouth. She could have taken him into her throat once more, but she indulged in her selfish desire to taste him. He gasped and a gush of his warm sperm flooded her mouth. She swallowed immediately so as not to be overcome and risk spilling. What a horrible culmination to her efforts that would be.

She swallowed a half-dozen times and then continued to gently suck on him as his climax faded, trying to extract as much from him as he would give. The dripping from her slit had increased to a continuous, lazy flow.

Daniel blinked away the dregs of his delirium and fixed Pet with the most wonderful smile. He leaned forward and shooed her hands away from her chest. She obediently placed them back on her thighs. 

He slowly gripped her breasts, sending incomparable waves of pain radiating through her body. Her womanhood pulsed and contracted, sending a small plop of liquid to the floor between her ankles.

"You. Are. Perfect," he said.

Daniel kissed his pet deeply and she moaned into his mouth as their tongues danced around each other. Her mind went blank and her entire body shuddered in climax.

* * *


	7. "Failure"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet prepares for a formal occasion. Pippa watches Sunset and wonders. Pet loses herself. Sunset chooses defiance. Pet chooses agony. Sunset seeks comfort. Pippa provides it.

##### Pet - Pippa - Sunset

* * *

For the very first time, Pet knelt in her room with upbeat expectancy. She'd been anticipating a notification from her bracelet and had sprung into action when she received it. She'd agonized at first over precisely what she'd wear. This session would be the first in a new era. Pet's era. She wanted to put the right foot forward and show Daniel that she was ready and willing to fulfill his every desire.

She'd settled on the satin shelf bra with garter belt and thigh-highs; it had been the very first outfit she'd surveyed upon settling in to her new life. White. The color of unions and new beginnings. It was wonderfully apropos. As usual, she was satisfied that she looked appropriately inviting. The slitted panties were especially scandalous. Fading bruises blemished the tops of her breasts, a stark reminder of the tremendous effort she'd made to become the woman she now was. Pet wore them proudly.

She waited in the center of her room as the door to the elevator corridor opened, but she couldn't bring herself to bow her head and look demurely supplicating. She was just too happy. Too eager.

She cocked her head as Daniel swept into the room. He wasn't wearing one of his usual waistcoats, but rather was decked out in a black tuxedo, an untied bow tie hanging around his collar. He was carrying a long bag draped over one arm.

He grinned as he looked her up and down.

"Well, I'm glad you haven't neglected your preparations," he began. "But we probably won't have time to play today, pet."

He looked at her expectantly. She stared back in confusion.

"Olivia's recital is this afternoon," he prompted.

Was it already afternoon? Pet had reckoned it was still morning.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, standing. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was time."

He smiled, approached her, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. She shivered slightly as his lips met her skin. Pet loved it when he did that.

"That's fine, pet. You were focused on the right things. Still, we'd better get ready."

Pet's excitement for Olivia surged. She was working so hard on her craft. It was important for both the girls to have diversions keeping them occupied and satisfied while Pet devoted herself to Daniel. She was delighted that Daniel expressed as much interest in celebrating Olivia's progress as she did. Pet wondered if solo athletics was providing Pippa with enough stimulation to keep her happy. If not, perhaps Sunset could help her find something else. Her children's governess was a resourceful woman. A godsend, really. The recital had been a wonderful idea.

Daniel crossed to her mirror and began working on the bow tie. She approached the first closet and wondered what might be appropriate for Olivia's big day. Sunset had told her to wear something formal. She frowned at her available outfits. There were some fashionable options here, but nothing truly formal.

He spoke up, "You don't need to worry about making a choice, pet. I brought you something to wear."

Pet spun around. Daniel had opened the bag and was displaying a gorgeous white evening gown. It was a long silk affair with a fashionable slit up the legs and two sheer panels up the sides. Pet's heart leapt as she examined the beautiful dress.

"Your choice of underwear is fitting," he stated with a grin.

Pet skipped over to him, clapping her hands lightly in front of her face. His selection was glamorous. It made her giddy.

"It's so beautiful, Daniel," she extolled.

"Try it on."

She wriggled into the gown as he finished his preparations at her mirror. The dress fit perfectly, tastefully accentuating her curves. It was even comfortable; the silky fabric felt wonderful against her skin. Pet was slightly dismayed that it covered her cleavage, but she supposed that the bruises might raise uncomfortable questions from her girls. Regardless, Daniel had selected it. His choices were, by their nature, always appropriate. And they were always deliberate.

Daniel watched her intently as she adjusted the gown. He smiled and stepped up, turning her round and zipping the back up. He spun her back and surveyed her.

"It's perfect," he breathed, running his hands over her breasts and down her sides. "But only because you're perfect, pet."

Tears came to Pet's eyes. Daniel was so good to her. Better than she deserved.

"Oh," he said abruptly. "Something else to decorate you for the evening."

He reached into a jacket pocket and withdrew a small box. He presented it before her and opened it. Inside were a pair of glittering earrings. Dangling bars of platinum with a line of four diamonds studded on the face.

"Oh, Daniel," she gasped, timidly taking the box from his hand.

"Go ahead," he said, gesturing to the mirror.

She strode up and replaced her simple silver studs with the magnificent hanging bars.

He walked up behind her, placed his chin on her shoulder with a contented grin, and met her eyes through the mirror.

"I'm not sure I'll ever be able to properly decorate you, pet. But it's a good start."

Her tears were properly flowing now. She spun and put her hands on his waist. She desperately wanted to kiss him. It was forward of her, but she was so caught up in the moment that she couldn't help but ask.

She tucked her head. "Can— can I kiss you, Daniel?"

He didn't hesitate. He grabbed her by the neck and kissed her deeply.

Pet moaned and felt her knees grow weak as their tongues danced around each other. Daniel grabbed her, one hand on her back, the other cupping her buttocks, and spun around, chuckling.

As he ended the prolonged kiss, he held up a finger.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "One more thing. I nearly forgot."

He reached into his pants pocket and stepped back up to the mirror, emptying a handful of items onto the side of the sink. He snatched one of them up and turned back to her.

"The dress and the earrings are but loans for the occasion," he began. Pet wasn't disappointed. She'd suspected as much. "But this — this is yours, pet."

He extended his hand. Laying in his palm was a thin, curving rectangle of crystal-clear glass, less than 3 centimeters wide and a centimeter tall. Inside was a needle-thin plane of green light that bisected the glass from side to side.

She gently plucked up the object and examined it. When viewed face on, it displayed in blocky translucent digits: _15:10_. A timepiece.

Pet gasped, covering her mouth. Complete ignorance of the time had been a constant feature of her time living in the windowless cell. She'd grown accustomed to it. Daniel's visits had been the sole indicator of the time of day, at least until she could make it upstairs. This gift would change her life. It surely symbolized his tremendous trust in her.

Pet's emotions overtook her and she threw her arms around Daniel. She wanted to thank him profusely, but the words wouldn't come to her. She just cried with joy.

Daniel laughed as he embraced her. "I'm glad you like it, pet."

She hugged him tightly for what seemed an eternity, doing her best not to sully his tuxedo jacket with her tears. Eventually she reluctantly let him go.

"Daniel," she breathed shakily. "Thank you so much. This means everything to me."

"Olivia's recital is at four," he said with smile.

Fifty minutes away. Pet could plan for her afternoon. She could plan for time with her children. It was a wonderful feeling.

She wiped at her tear-stained cheeks and gave a jittery chuckle.

"Now I need to touch up my makeup," she sniffed with a smile.

He grinned and stepped aside. She strode up to her sink and surveyed the mess she'd made of her eyeliner. As she looked down to her shelf to retrieve and reapply it, her gaze was drawn to the pile of Daniel's miscellany on her sink.

There — nestled amongst a small ring of keys, a button, a decorative coin, and a square polymer token of some kind — was an unmistakable fingernail-sized wafer of neon blue plastic.

* * *

Pippa stood on one of the dining room chairs, affixing the last of the crepe paper streamers. A robot — Sunset had called them 'armatures' — had delivered them, along with other miscellaneous party decorations, that morning. She'd been intrigued to see that, after it had left, the large metal door to the tunnel network remained open.

She stepped off the chair and surveyed her work. The house certainly looked festive. Black and white streamers and balloons hung all over the living and dining rooms. The lady of the hour was shut up in her bedroom, obsessively practicing the pieces she planned on playing for her four guests. An intoxicating aroma was wafting from the kitchen. Pippa picked up her chair and followed her nose.

She replaced the chair at the dining room table and turned around, leaning against it and letting her gaze fall on the dream that was flitting around the kitchen. Sunset was wearing a stunning red-and-black ensemble: a frilly, puffy skirt and a silky vest over a chic satin blouse. The tantalizing lines of piercings on her chest reflected the red of her top. She danced back and forth, furiously working to finish the last of the hors d'oeuvres to set out for the recital.

Pippa grinned contentedly. She could watch Sunset do absolutely anything, but seeing the redhead merrily waltz about the kitchen while cooking was always satisfying. This seemed to be where her wondrous governess was most carefree, most at peace. Sunset hummed softly as she worked.

Pippa's eyes were consistently drawn to the redhead's bust and her long, shapely legs. Just a few short days ago, the teen would've been flooded with shame at the urges percolating in the back of her mind. But Sunset herself had done much to put Pippa's mind at ease. She'd shown her that these feelings were healthy. Normal. And now that she had an appropriate outlet for them, she didn't feel so stressed about indulging in a little harmless sightseeing. If anything, Pippa was gleefully collecting imagery for future, ahem, _use_.

It seemed that, no matter what she was doing, Sunset evoked feelings of sublime grace and refinement. More and more, that quality piqued Pippa's curiosity. Yesterday, Olivia had filled her in what Sunset had divulged about her life prior to her time with them and Pippa hadn't be able to stop thinking about it. Literally everything about Sunset interested her and she couldn't help but wonder about her past, especially since the redhead herself seemed so reticent to open up about it.

Pippa wasn't stupid. And, despite what the obvious holes in her worldly knowledge might suggest, she wasn't naive, either. Her suspicions were growing that Sunset's career might not have been something completely mainstream. She'd been a payed entertainer, but hadn't played music. She and her colleagues — some of whom had been just like Pippa — were prized for their sexual characteristics and beauty. And her governess seemed to be _very_ knowledgeable about all aspects of sex. All of these facts bolstered a single theory: Sunset had once been a prostitute. Obviously a very expensive one.

Pippa was conflicted about the idea. It made sense, of course. The gorgeous governess, for all her knowledge and skills, exuded sex from every pore. Her every movement conjured ideas of intimacy and sensuality. Pippa was certain that she wasn't alone in feeling that. And it's not as if the idea of Sunset making a living from those qualities really dismayed her. Sex work was more socially accepted now than at any other point in modern history. But one other detail that Olivia had let slip was eating at Pippa: Sunset had mentioned that sometimes, at the behest of their parents, she had 'taught' teens.

The thought of someone else her age being gifted the privilege of having sex with _her_ exquisite governess made Pippa Fisher drown in jealousy.

* * *

Whole swathes of Pet's mind screamed at her as she breathlessly reached down and plucked up the blue wafer. She wasn't hallucinating. She was indeed holding a snap capsule of Away. A war now raged inside her. On one side was Pet: her newfound spirit of control through obedience, her sense of solemn duty, and her dedication to her children. On the other was someone she'd hoped had died alongside Daphne. The beast. The demon. The mere sight of the wafer had been enough to bring it roaring back from extinction. And it was still as voracious as ever.

Eternities seemed to pass between beats of Pet's heart. Despair bubbled up as she felt the beast slowly overwhelm the rest of her. It flooded her mind with the recollection of drug-induced belonging. Memories of the magnificent feeling of being exactly where she was supposed to be, of being precisely where the universe wanted her, and of having ascended to a true and rightful state.

She turned to Daniel, cradling the snap-cap in her palm. She looked at him, her expression desperately questioning. He glanced down at her hand then back up to her face. He said nothing and his face betrayed no feelings. It wasn't a mistake.

Pet struggled for words. "I— What—"

Daniel sat back on her bed and shrugged. "It's just something I had lying around. I guess I put it in my pocket without thinking." 

The sheer implausibility of that statement soared past Pet. Instead, her brain was on fire with a dozen different courses of action. They all depicted her taking the drug.

Daniel braced his hands behind his head. "My pet's developed such a keen sense of responsibility. I trust that she can exercise proper judgement as to when and where the various tools available to her are appropriate," he stated casually.

Pet — or was it the demon? — couldn't help but agree. He _did_ trust her. And she'd proven her judgement already. She'd killed Daphne when it had become apparent that the woman no longer had any purpose. Surely she could decide for herself when Away was necessary. 

Pet grinned weakly and have a nervous chuckle. She wished the voice inside her would speak up and help guide her. Ever since she'd arrived here, it had aimed her squarely towards Daniel's — and her own — best interests. But, on this occasion, it was silent. Instead, the beast's vivid ideations were surging through her mind like a pounding surf, practically audible themselves.

_He isn't showing it, but Daniel is surely disappointed that I'm not serving him this afternoon. He'll resent me for not fulfilling my duties._

_Away enhances my sexual instincts. It'll help me finish him faster. That way I can still serve him before I selfishly take the entire rest of the day for myself._

_Besides, having Away just sitting here will distract me. If I get it over with, I'll be able to better focus on Olivia's big day._

That all the thoughts were driving Pet to the same course of action didn't register with her. She turned away from Daniel, grasping the snap-cap before her with both hands. As she focused her eyes on it, the rest of the room — the rest of the world — faded away. The universe was calling to her.

* * *

The bruschetta had long gone cold. The entire spread sat uneaten on the table. Pippa and Sunset leaned forward on the living room couch, hands in their laps as Olivia paced in front of them. Looking around the festooned living room, Pippa gleaned a new realization of how decorations could violently careen from cheerily festive to embarrassingly depressing. 

The trio had been waiting for nearly two hours. Pippa was very close to giving up hope. Sunset had twice tried to persuade Olivia to play without Daniel and her mother. To not let the occasion go to waste. But Pippa's stubborn sister had balked at the idea. She obviously had a very clear conception of what today should be like. And it just wasn't shaping up that way. Her face was a twisted fusion of budding fury and disconsolation. This wasn't the first time their mother had disappointed them. She'd been peculiarly absent since they'd arrived in Daniel's care. But this was beyond the pale. They'd had told her just yesterday about the recital. Their mother had been ecstatic about it.

"What a wonderful idea," she'd said. 

"You deserve this, Olivia," she'd said. 

"Decorations and formal wear will be so fun," she'd said. 

So where the hell _was_ she?

* * *

Another warm gush of semen slid down Pet's throat. She'd lost count of how many that was. Daniel's stamina seemed to be practically infinite. She reached down and gently massaged her clitoris as he pulled his softening member from her throat so she could again gasp for air. 

After snorting the snap-cap of Away, she'd been faced with the same orgasmic burden as before. Only now she knew that, as difficult as it may seem at the outset, release was imminently possible. Daniel had forgone the initiative in this session and Pet had seized it eagerly. And she'd quickly made two key discoveries about Away. 

One, the drug subsumed the pleasure of her partners into her own. Daniel's orgasms felt amazing for her. They triggered pseudo-climaxes of her own. Only these didn't purge Away from her system and send her back to her hellishly ordinary life. 

Two, Pet had realized a newfound control over her journey to completion. Daniel was right: she _was_ developing a keen sense of responsibility. She'd managed to assiduously prevent herself from climaxing. At first it was because, despite her furious desire, she was loathe to return to mundanity just yet. But now it was because she could feel that each time she denied herself, the orgasm she was cultivating held the promise of ever-increasing intensity. 

She'd made Daniel come multiple times now using all her orifices. She was pushing far past the boundaries of acts Pet would've normally thought it appropriate to initiate. But she was simply doing what the necessities of the moment demanded. Besides, Daniel seemed to be enjoying himself. And his pleasure was her pleasure. That was all that mattered.

As Daniel staggered back and leaned against the wall of her cell to recover, Pet rubbed her love button and wrenched herself close to climax. As she neared it, she forced herself to remove her hand. Eyes clenched closed, she gave a deep sigh and reached into her imagination once again. The litany of prurient acts she'd indulged in this session had grown long. She'd need to start exercising real creativity to avoid their soirée going stale. Fortunately for her, Away gave her terrific instincts.

She stalked over to Daniel on her hands and knees, not bothering to suppress the predatory look in her eyes. Surely he'd had enough time to overcome his refractory period. She gently grasped his thighs and prompted him to turn towards the wall. He trusted his pet and did so. With a moan, Pet parted his buttocks and thrust her tongue into his anus. It was an act the mere thought of which, in her previous life as the unfortunate 'Daphne', would have made her retch. Now the perversity just made her even more aroused. Apparently the same went for Daniel, as he emitted unrestrained moans of his own. As she pulled back to catch a breath, she could see a string of pre-ejaculate dripping from between his legs. Pet caught it and let it pool in her hand as she went back in with her tongue. Daniel didn't like it when his fluids were spent on the floor. She didn't either.

Pet thoroughly explored his entrance with her tongue. It required significant force to overcome his body's inherent reluctance. She pressed her lips to his cleft and sucked gently as she scoured the sides of his rectum. The taste wasn't pleasant, but neither was it horrific. Away allowed Pet to consistently push the boundaries of the acceptable. It allowed her to permanently integrate new sensations into her conceptions of what was erotic, and the sour taste was just another addition to her rapidly expanding palate.

Pet reached around and stroked his member, her hand slick with his copious pre-ejaculate. His groans were already intensifying. A truly insolent part of her was gratified that she seemed to possess the superior sense of self-control. Pet's vigilant sense of servitude admonished her harshly for that thought. Daniel was allowed to orgasm as much as he wished. That was his prerogative, just as hers was to provide for it.

She could feel him getting close once again. Away gave her a preternatural connection to Daniel's libido. She read his state of arousal as easily as she read the expressions on his face. As he approached climax, she spun him back round and devoured him once again. She gently inserted a finger into him and massaged his prostate. Pet was digging deep into Daphne's meager sexual knowledge, leveraging every scrap of erotic technique the naive prude had ever even heard whispers of.

As she forced his manhood down her throat, he burst once again. He grabbed her head and groaned, using her esophagus to milk himself. She cheerfully surrendered to him. The sensation of his seed pouring into her stomach was luxuriant. Pet felt she could consume his emissions forever and never grow tired of it. It was like an injection of sublime substance into her very soul.

Once he finished, Daniel grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her off his penis and to her feet. She emitted a wet gurgle as he slid out of her throat. He gripped her neck and began to push her back across the room towards her bed. The look in his eyes made her worry that he intended to end her journey. The backs of her knees hit the concrete slab and she fell onto the mattress. He gripped her mons and thrust several fingers into her. She was sopping wet. This would be too much. It would ruin her carefully crafted pace. As he penetrated her and rubbed her clitoris intensely, she began to beg.

"Oh, god, Daniel. Please. Not yet. I'm not finished."

He extracted his hand from her and slapped her across the face. He didn't use his full strength, but it certainly wasn't a playful strike.

"I decide when you're finished, whore."

Neither the force of his blow nor the severity his words did anything to calm her furiously building arousal. Pet couldn't help but lick at the smear of womanly juices his blow had left. He knelt down and wrapped his lips around her clitoris. 

She was dispirited. She mustn't orgasm yet. Not now. It wasn't time. She still had so much left to do. Pet rebuked herself sternly. That kind of thinking was entirely unbefitting of her station. Daniel was the sole arbiter of her body. If he wanted her to come, she would come. But she just couldn't help it; the thought made her anguish.

He had a thumb in her vagina and was pressing two freshly lubricated fingers into her anus. Between that penetration and his lips on her nub, she was rapidly approaching her climax. 

She couldn't help herself from entreating him one last time, "Please, Daniel," she said, gasping. "I can't come. I don't wa— ahhhh!"

Her plaintive solicitation transformed into a scream of pleasure as he gently bit down on her clitoris. She lurched towards orgasm. The pressure that had built from her constant self-denial burst forth in an apocalyptic emancipation. The universe yawned wide and consumed her. 

She faded from existence.

* * *

Pet was panting and aching. She was firmly back in hell. She immediately tried to console herself. This was inevitable. She still had her duty. She was still in Daniel's care. All of that was cold comfort.

"Mmm," Daniel murmured. "You went away again, pet."

She reoriented herself. He was leaning against her sink. He ran a hand through his slick hair with a contented grin on his face. His shirt had a long sweat stain on the front.

As pet blinked away the daze, she caught sight of a pile of white cloth in the corner of her cell. Her gown. Olivia's recital!

"Oh, Daniel!" she jumped to her feet and had to steady herself against a wave of dizziness. "We have to hurry! We'll be late to Olivia's recital!"

His expression turned dark. "It's well past evening, Pet."

No! Pet turned to her bed and scrabbled around, eventually locating her new glass timepiece.

 _20:51_.

She'd missed it. She'd revelled with Daniel for hours and had missed Olivia's recital. The dreadful Away hangover descended like a leaden blanket and crushed her.

The daze returned, limned in bleak, disbelieving rejection. "No. No, no, no." She mumbled. She staggered around her cell, clutching the timepiece and shaking her head. A furious heat was building in her chest and a torrent of tears was threatening to breach a dam behind her eyes. Olivia would never forgive her. She'd been so excited about this opportunity. Pet's and Daniel's presence was the only thing that would have provided even the most meager sense of occasion. And she'd missed it. She'd made him miss it.

The dam broke and the heat burst from her. She yelled uncontrollably. So loudly that she felt a sharp pain in her throat.

Pet looked through a veil of tears at the traitor timepiece one again, then screamed and hurled it with all her might against the wall.

* * *

Clearly either Olivia's hope or patience had finally run out. Her fury had fled and her grim expression had devolved into a despondent pout. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she sat on the floor of the living room. Sunset felt her own melancholy brewing, but all her attentions were drawn to the broken strawberry-blonde girl in front of her. She quickly got up from the couch and knelt next to her. Sunset held Olivia tightly and shushed her.

"Why, Sunset!?" Olivia wailed. "Why didn't she come!?"

Sunset had no answers to that question. But that wouldn't do anything to assuage the young girl. That wouldn't prevent the girl from feeling abandoned by her mother.

"I'm sure she had a good reason, Olivia," Sunset said. "I know she wanted to be here."

Someone hissed sharply in Sunset's ear. Daniel's ghost spoke to her, _Daphne is in a drug-addled haze. She has Daniel's cock in her ass as we speak. I doubt she even remembers that her children exist right now._

Sunset frowned. The ghost had spoken to her on a few occasions since she'd been tasked with caring for the Fisher girls. Its instruction seemed very rarely to be in their interest and its lies were now the last thing they needed to hear.

_You need tell the girls that. I suppose you can sanitize it if you want._

The _hell_ she would. The fact that the ghost usually spoke with Daniel's authority meant nothing to Sunset right now. Fuck him.

"Your mother loves you, Olivia," Sunset said softly, stroking Olivia's hair. "I'm sure she'll come see you soon."

 _You _will_ tell them!_ said the ghost, practically shouting. It typically had no trouble speaking only to her and the girl's expressions confirmed to Sunset that it was indeed doing just that.

"How can you know that, Sunset!?" Olivia despaired. "What if she's forgotten about us?"

 _She has,_ said the ghost.

"She hasn't," said Sunset. "There must have been some sort of emergency."

Olivia just sobbed. Pippa had sprung up off the couch and was pacing back and forth. That the protective raven-haired older sister hadn't come to Olivia's aid spoke to the depths of her own distress.

_You know she doesn't even answer to the name 'Daphne' anymore? She's become such a hopeless slut. Far worse than you, Sunset. Now tell her daughters._

"I know you both feel terrible, girls," Sunset began. "But your mom is going to come back to you. And I'm sure she'll have a good explanation for why she missed your recital, Olivia."

 _She will not!_ yelled the ghost. _You will tell them that, Sunset, and you will do it now!_

Sunset gritted her teeth and shook her head minutely. She mustn't betray the fact that the ghost was talking to her. It would only upset them. Terrify them.

"How about I draw you a warm bubble bath, Oliv—"

 _YOU'LL TELL THEM THEIR MOTHER IS A WHORE ADDICT, SUNSET!_ the ghost bellowed. Sunset clenched her eyes shut and braced herself against the cacophony.

Olivia turned to look at her. Pippa halted her pacing.

"Are you okay?" asked the raven-haired teen.

"I'm f—"

 _DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, SUNSET!_ the ghost screamed. The noise was so loud that Sunset couldn't help but slam her hands over her ears.

Olivia backed away. Pippa ran up to her, panic in her eyes.

A high-pitched ringing was building in the background. Sunset didn't know if it was damage to her ears or if the sound was something the ghost was projecting.

"It's okay gir— ahh!" she yelped as the ghost again increased its volume.

_DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I CAN DO TO YOU, YOU BITCH!?_

"Sunset, what's wrong!?" Pippa asked, distressed.

"Please take Olivia to her room, Pippa," Sunset managed to stammer over the din.

_YOU'RE DEAD! YOU'RE DEAD, YOU FUCKING BITCH!_

"But—" said Pippa.

Sunset felt like her ears were going to start bleeding.

"Do it now, Pippa," Sunset said harshly. She didn't want to scare Pippa, but she also didn't want the girls to see what terrible things might soon happen to her as the ghost's fury built.

Pippa moved to grab Olivia.

"Sunset, I—" began the teen.

 _I'M GOING TO TEAR YOU APART, YOU WHORE!_ screamed the ghost. Its voice had twisted. It wasn't a smooth, androgynous tone anymore. This was the voice of an inhuman horror.

"Do it, Pippa! Both of you, go to your rooms!" Sunset yelled. The ringing was now so loud that it was making Sunset nauseous.

The teen scrambled over to her sister and grabbed her by the shoulders. Olivia was staring wide-eyed at her governess, sobbing uncontrollably.

_YOU'RE GOING TO BE RAPED TO DEATH! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN AGONY! IN BLOODY FUCKING PIECES!_

The girls had disappeared through the dining room and into the hallway.

It wasn't like Sunset hadn't heard those sorts of threats before. But the way the ghost was delivering them made her feel like vomiting.

_I'M GOING TO TEAR YOU TO SHREDS STARTING WITH YOUR WORTHLESS HOLES, YOU FUCKING SLUT! GET UP AND GO TELL THEM THEIR MOTHER'S A DRUGGIE WHORE!_

Sunset curled up into a ball and rocked back and forth. She now had her fingers shoved as far into her ears as they would go. The ringing faded only barely. 

_Just endure_ , she told herself.

Sunset had weathered countless traumas this severe in the past. This was just another bad day. The cacophony pulsed on and on and her vision seemed to fade as the noise overtook the rest of her senses. That sent a primal surge of panic into her. In contrast to the years of blurry servitude she'd endured, Sunset's vision had been normal from the moment she'd entered the house. It had been wonderful to regain control of her sight. To her relief, Sunset eventually realized that this blurriness was only psychological.

After what seemed like an eternity, the ringing abruptly ceased. Sunset looked wide-eyed around the living room. She couldn't believe that the nightmare was actually over. She glanced at the clock hanging on the dining room wall. It had been thirty minutes since the ghost had begun its onslaught.

She flinched as it spoke once more. The voice had returned to normal. 

_You've defied Daniel, Sunset,_ it crooned. _He owns you. You know this. And you also know that he's refrained from using you for blood pleasure up until now. But I can't imagine he'll find any other purpose for you when I tell him that you're incapable of following simple instructions._

Tears welled in Sunset's eyes. The ghost was deadly serious. It was always serious. And 'blood pleasure' was a chilling euphemism. She knew that some of her friends had met fates like that. They all took that risk when they went out to clients. When they put their lives in the hands of absurdly rich psychopaths.

Sunset slowly crawled to her feet.

_In the interim, you are not to leave the house. If you come into contact with any armatures, I guarantee that the results will be deeply unpleasant. I'm so very disappointed. I always liked you, Sunset. You're my favorite of Daniel's whores. But I won't be able to protect you now._

Sunset set her jaw and strode towards the girl's rooms. They'd need to be reassured that everything was fine.

* * *

Pet held her hands to her face and screamed. Despite killing their mother, she still cared deeply for her girls. Their happiness was only one step below Daniel's on her list of priorities. She despaired at the thought of Olivia waiting for her and her never coming. 

Daniel impassively watched her tantrum from her bed. Eventually, despite the gruesome Away hangover, her mind calmed enough to coalesce into a course of action. She took a deep breath. Pet's willpower was stronger than Daphne's was. She could function — could do her duty — even when immersed in the desperate bleakness that followed an Away high.

The evening was ruined. She wouldn't be able to console her daughters tonight. That would have to wait for tomorrow, if Daniel allowed it, as it was long past the usual time when she could leave her cell. She would use tonight for her own reckoning.

Pet spied her gift laying a few paces away. She bent down and scooped it up. It was still whole, but it had a crack marring the face and the green digits inside were faintly flickering. She'd failed so miserably. She'd failed both her girls and Daniel. She'd allowed her addiction to ensnare him. She couldn't yet atone for failing her daughters, but at least she could atone for failing him.

Pet strode across the room to the toy box. None of the gratifying toys would find use tonight. She opened the drawers and stooped to choose an instrument. She then turned and crossed the room, kneeling before Daniel. She set her damaged gift gently on the floor beside her and then presented her selection to him: the thick black cane. 

"Please punish me, Daniel," she begged.

He looked at her dubiously. She knew that making such a request of him was bordering on insubordination.

"Why do you think you deserve to be punished, pet?" he asked softly.

Confession was the first step.

"I've failed you. I've failed my daughters. I didn't resist my urge to take the Away. I— I _couldn't_ resist. I put my own selfish pleasure ahead of yours and my daughters' happiness. Please punish me."

He nodded sagely.

"And how shall I punish you?"

Pet's mind scrambled. She'd never actually had input as to the modes of her own pain before.

 _I deserve only the harshest of punishments,_ her voice finally sounded.

So _now_ it showed. Where had the voice been when she'd been grappling with her cravings? Regardless, it was, of course, correct. Pet struggled through the hangover fog to employ her creativity.

"Cane my behind," Pet said.

Daniel nodded and got up from the bed.

"Then cane my thighs," she continued. "Back and front."

He cocked his head and drew his lips into a line.

Pet looked him in the eyes. "Then cane my breasts."

Uncertainty was a strange look to see on Daniel's face. An absurd facet of Pet's mind took pleasure in her ability to give him pause.

"I'm not sure you can withstand a penance quite that thorough, pet. The cane is not something to be trifled with. You know this first hand."

 _I deserve only the _harshest_ of punishments,_ her voice repeated.

"I _am_ a coward," she admitted, looking to the floor. "I will probably beg you to stop. Please do not. Pain is how I atone. You've taught me this."

Daniel took the cane from her hands and crossed to the toy box. 

"Stand in the center of the room, Daphne."

Pet gave a stifled sob as she obeyed. She hated that name and it stung to hear him use it again.

"She's dead, Daniel."

He knelt at the toy box and didn't respond. 

Pet's actions were consistent with that pathetic creature's nature. Even though Daphne was dead, her weaknesses clearly were not.

Daniel turned back to her holding a length of rope. He handed her one end and pointed to a recessed steel eyelet embedded into the concrete of the ceiling.

"I'm going to lift you up. Thread the robe through there."

Up to this point, Daniel had always used simple restraints. Pet was morbidly curious as to how he intended to utilize the rope. He grasped her by her thighs and thrust her up to the ceiling. She threaded the rope and he let her down.

"Hands out. Wrists together."

Pet complied. He wound the rope around and between her wrists in neat coils, then tied a tight knot between her palms. Saying nothing, he hoisted her hands above her head, pulling her just high enough that she couldn't quite stand flat on the floor. As she tried to balance on the balls of her feet, her wrists and shoulders complained at the strain.

Daniel tied the rope off to another eyelet in the floor. When she'd been passing time alone in her cell, Pet had wondered about the purpose of the dozen or so fixtures scattered around the ceiling and floor. Well, now she knew.

"We'll start with five strokes to the front and backs of the thighs," he stated.

A knot was beginning to form in Pet's stomach. A primal part of her cursed herself for asking for this punishment. She quashed it. She deserved this. She wanted this, even if her body did not.

He crossed behind her. The first strike came without warning and Pet screamed. Agony splashed across her upper thighs. A second strike came soon after. She screamed again, louder this time. Daniel was allowing her no reprieve between blows. The pain of the second amplified that of the first. The last three came in quick succession. The sensation was so intense that she almost couldn't feel the horrible swats individually. But she could definitely feel the aftermath. 

Pet instinctively thrashed and turned around to protect her tender thighs. She was sobbing incoherently now. The part of her mind that wanted the punishment was not capable of controlling her reaction to it. As she pivoted on the rope, Daniel struck the front of her thighs. It was the first time she'd ever felt such pain there and she bellowed as he hit it again and then a third time.

"Please!" she screamed instinctively as he finished the fourth and fifth strokes to her already-punished flesh.

Daniel tucked the cane under his arm and stepped up to her. He reached down and stroked her thighs, aggravating the terrible tenderness. 

He whispered into her ear, "You've clearly had enough, pet. Now tell me to stop."

The cool, practical part of Pet's brain implored her to do so. It was such an easy thing to say: 'stop'. She wouldn't. Pet still hated herself. The pain was washing that hatred away, but the process wasn't done.

Pet panted and whimpered and said nothing. 

Daniel pursed his lips and nodded. He bent down and grasped her ankles. Daniel placed her feet on the bed and let some slack into her bindings. She was now stretched nearly horizontal to the floor. Her large, tender breasts hung below her, horribly vulnerable, and her shoulders now screamed at the exertion her bondage was forcing upon them. Daniel apparently knew this and wasted no time.

"Head up, pet," he ordered.

As she raised her head in between her outstretched arms, he swung the cane and struck the underside of her breasts. Pet screamed until her voice could no longer function.

"Tell me to stop!" Daniel yelled. "You started this process, pet! And only you can finish it!"

He struck her again. By this point, Pet's entire universe consisted of pain. She almost couldn't feel the hate for herself anymore. She couldn't feel anything other than the agony the cane imparted. But still she didn't speak. 

He swung the cane in a downward arc and hit the tops of her breasts. A haze was descending on Pet. Her pain was closing in on her, dampening her senses. Her voice was hoarse from screaming. It probably hurt to continue making noise. But if it did, she couldn't feel it through the suffering the rest of her body was enduring.

As further blows landed all around her body, Pet heard a voice call to her as if from a distance, imploring her to do something. Her mind couldn't comprehend the words, but she knew that she couldn't comply. Fresh, successive waves of agony eventually hounded Pet all the way into unconsciousness.

* * *

Sunset heard Olivia talking through angry sobs as she approached her door. The girl went silent as she opened her door. She laid on her side in bed, facing away.

"Olivia—" Sunset began.

"Go away," Olivia said bitterly.

"Please, Olivia," she began.

Olivia turned over and fixed Sunset with an alarmingly hostile gaze. "Go. Away," she repeated. "Tonight was your fault and you can't make it better. You're not my mother, Sunset, and I don't care what you have to say to me. Just leave me alone."

Sunset was taken aback by Olivia's venom. The girl's words hurt her more than Daniel's ghost ever could. Tears welling in her eyes, Sunset turned without another word and closed the door.

She choked back sobs of her own as she leaned against the wall of the hallway. She looked at Pippa's door. Would the teen be just as spiteful? Did Pippa hate her as much as her sister did? Despite her dread, Sunset approached the door and knocked. She simply had to know.

"Come in," called the teen softly.

Sunset poked her head in, as if trying to shield herself from another verbal onslaught. Pippa laid up in her bed, reading the book of poetry Sunset had given her by the soft light of a bedside lamp. Relief flooded Sunset as she looked at the teen's face. There was no hatred there. No bitter frustration. Only concern.

Sunset wandered in and closed the door behind her, unconsciously attempting to shut out the brutal world that lay beyond it.

Pippa didn't speak as Sunset rounded her bed and crawled in next to her. She laid on her side, facing away from the teen. She just needed to be close to someone who didn't hate her. Someone who didn't mean her harm. The redhead's sobs finally broke free. 

Pippa tossed her book aside and laid down next to her distraught governess, reaching around her in a comforting embrace. Sunset grasped her hand around Pippa's as her tears continued to flow. There was still one person in the world who loved her. There was someone who still cared that she was in pain.

* * *

Pippa wished that she could enjoy the embrace. Holding her governess should have been a dream come true. And, in any other circumstance, it would have been. But Sunset's cries cut Pippa to her core. Her mind lurched from burning anger at the world for hurting Sunset so terribly to sympathetic sorrow at the redhead's plight. But Pippa didn't cry herself. She needed to be strong. She _was_ strong. That's why Sunset had come to her. So the teen just held Sunset in her arms and nestled close to her back.

As Sunset calmed, Pippa tried to console her.

"I'm sorry, Sunset. Olivia loves you. I know it. She's just hurting too badly to show it."

Sunset sniffed. "Do you know what I did before Daniel brought me here to care for you?" she asked, bitterness creeping into her voice.

"I—" Pippa didn't have a chance to reply.

"I was a whore." The redhead withdrew her hand from Pippa's. "I wasn't made to be loved, Pippa. I was only made to be fucked."

The crude language wasn't what shocked Pippa, nor was the redhead's confirmation of her suspicions. The teen had the sudden insight that how she felt now was how Sunset had felt when Pippa said she wasn't a real girl. It made her angry and sad and indignant all at the same time.

It was now Pippa's turn to lay down some stern reinforcement. She grabbed Sunset's hand again and held her tighter.

"Don't you dare say that, Sunset. You're wrong," Pippa whispered. There was no hesitation in her voice. She spoke on instinct and from her heart, "I love you. I've loved you since the very first time I saw you in our kitchen."

Sunset's sobs returned. She turned around in the bed and embraced Pippa like a frightened child. The teen held Sunset's head to her chest and stroked her hair as she cried. Words poured out from her soul.

"I love everything about you, Sunset. I love how you talk and how you laugh. I love how you treat me and my sister. I love how you seem to know who I am better than I do. And I love that you love me for who I am. So I love you for who you are. I couldn't care less what you did before you came here. The only thing that matters to me is who you've shown me.

"So if nothing else, Sunset, you were made for me to love. And I can't— I won't do anything else. Nothing you could say to me would stop me from loving you."

The redhead's sobs redoubled and she gripped Pippa's shirt tightly. The teen clenched her arms around her wounded governess and held her until they both wandered off to sleep.

* * *


End file.
